His Impossible Girl
by SquirrelWho
Summary: She died saving his life before he could even learn her name, but the ring told him he'd see her again. So when a mysterious text brought him to a derelict building he knew who sent it even before he saw her. Who is Rose Tyler and how can their lives be so impossibly intertwined? If his future is her past can he save her or will he be doomed to lose her all over again? (RoseLock)
1. Threats

So, this is my attempt at something different. I like the idea of one person's past being another person's future sort of like the Doctor/River, but just in that sense. The whole plot and such are completely different.

Also, I've thrown in a daughter because of that whole Tumblr prompt.

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><p>Sherlock arranged the index fingers on the cookie sheet as he waited for the contents in the beaker to boil. Some days it was hard work not smoking, but John and Mary had their own child. He couldn't be that person anymore.<p>

Marie would be celebrating her first birthday in a few weeks. Mary called him earlier asking for his help planning the party. He'd been reluctant. A child's birthday party wasn't really his area, but according to her John didn't have time because he was too busy with work. Sherlock offered to have a talk with John, but she told him that she'd be more inclined to have _his_ help. He couldn't blame her, he really had been better at all the wedding planning than his friend.

His phone chimed from the other room. He glanced at the beaker. Another chime. It still had a few minutes to go so he crossed the room and picked up his phone from the desk. Two messages from a blocked number.

_Turn down Lestrade's case._

_-BLOCKED_

His brow drew together in confusion. Turn down what case? Lestrade hadn't brought him a case in over a week. There was an attached image. He opened it and froze. John tied to a chair, sporting a black eye with today's newspaper in front of him.

Someone was holding John hostage to keep Sherlock from working on a case Lestrade planned on asking him to solve. As if in answer the sound of a siren cut through the night. He glanced out the window as the lights came into view and the siren turned off. He slid his mobile into the pocket of his dressing gown and walked back into the kitchen in time to turn the burner off before the beaker overflowed. He pulled on the gloves and then grabbed the clamps and lifted the beaker as he heard the door open downstairs. Footsteps up the stairs and then he heard Lestrade step into his flat.

"Sherlock," the inspector called.

"In here," he said, carefully pouring the contents of the beaker over the index fingers.

A moment later Lestrade joined him, folder in hand.

"Ah, good. I need your help."

He could hear the desperation in the man's voice.

"I'm afraid I don't have time for anything at the moment, inspector," he dismissed.

"This is serious, Sherlock and this time I don't need you to tell me we have another serial killer on the loose. Three bodies in three days," Lestrade said, brandishing the folder as proof.

"I'm already on a case for Mycroft. I can't spare the time for another one," he replied without looking up.

"But you've got time to do that?"

Lestrade angrily gestured at the experiment he was running.

"This has to do with the case I'm already on," he lied.

"Come on. I'm desperate here. I have to catch this bastard before he strikes again."

He knew Lestrade wasn't going to let this go. The man would keep at him until he agreed and if he didn't agree today the inspector would likely be back tomorrow. He had to stop that from happening.

"I won't even be in town for the next few days," he said as he sat the beaker back.

"Sorry…what?"

"It's this case for Mycroft. I'm not really at liberty to discuss the details."

"Sod Mycroft and his bloody case," Lestrade yelled. "Since when did you put your brother first anyway?"

"I'm not putting Mycroft first, Grant-"

"It's Greg."

Sherlock blinked, having been taken out of the lie he was crafting, but he quickly reworked it.

"You can leave the folder if you like. I'll take a look at it on the plane. If I find anything I'll text you. If something happens send me as many photos as you can, but I can't make any promises."

Greg sighed in frustration. Sherlock had never actually turned down a case, at least not one this important. What the hell ever Mycroft had him on must be important, but that didn't make the inspector any less irritated. Looking over the file wasn't much, but at least it was something.

"Fine," he growled, slamming the file down on the table. "But if you get anything…ANYTHING let me know right away."

Sherlock nodded and a moment later he heard Lestrade's angry steps down the stairs. He knew the inspector was beside himself, but he had to do what the kidnapper wanted…for now. Only whoever it was made one fatal mistake. He took one of the few people Sherlock cared about and the detective would find them.

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><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**


	2. Family

Don't step on the feels. :)

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><p>Rose put the kettle on after her shower. Unless Sally showed up with a case today would be another slow day, not that she minded too much, but the last three had been the same and she really could do with some running. Going to the gym wasn't the same. It was harder to get the adrenalin pumping without fear of death.<p>

"Ally, you want a cuppa?" she called, but was greeted by silence.

She rolled her eyes, knowing that meant the girl was too busy listening to music and probably reading some quantum physics book to pay attention to something as ordinary as tea. She popped her head through the entryway and grinned. Yep, she was right. Alley was sitting in Sherlock's chair with her legs tucked under her, a book in her lap, listening to music on her phone.

Rose pulled the sonic out of her pocket and aimed it at the girl's phone, then pushed the button.

"Hey," Alley shouted.

"I asked-" she began, but was cut off as arms encircled her from behind.

She laughed as he nuzzled her ear and then kissed her neck.

"Why didn't you wake me? We could've conserved water," he said in that low voice that always made her shiver.

She turned around in his arms, grinning. _That _grin. The one that always drove him round the bend.

"Cheeky," she teased slapping his arm, but he knew she liked it.

"Seriously?" Ally yelled. "Child in room!"

"You're sixteen," he replied without taking his eyes from Rose.

"Exactly. People with a sixteen year old daughter shouldn't do that. It's just weird!"

"It's biology," he said.

"And chemistry," Rose added, making him grin.

"Seriously? Why would you even…that's just…ewww!"

"I think we've become an embarrassment to our daughter," she said, giving him a smile.

He grinned.

"I'm okay with that."

Then he pulled her in for a kiss.

"You realize I'm now scarred for life! It's going to take years of therapy to unsee that."

He finished their kiss and pulled back with a grin.

"I better get our daughter to school before she's further scarred."

Rose's grin turned cheeky, but the kettle boiled before he could pull her in for another kiss. So, instead he turned his attention to their daughter.

"Children who have affectionate parents grow up to have more fulfilling relationships," he replied, walking over to grab his coat and scarf.

"You read that in a book," Alley accused, grabbing her own coat.

"Everyone read that in a book." He shrugged into his coat and then paused with his scarf, eyeing her. "Not forgetting anything are you, Allison?"

She rolled her eyes in that way that always reminded him of Rose.

"No, I've actually got everything."

"Homework?"

"I'm two chapters ahead in physics, chemistry's done, you went over it last night, finished my essay yesterday, history's done, finished that this morning, and my other classes are all labs, not really take home work, at least, they don't think it is."

"And music?"

She glanced over at the sofa where her violin case sat and sighed.

"Fine." She crossed the room and picked it up. "I don't know why you make me play it."

"It's good for you, gives you an outlet."

She rolled her eyes.

"You're quoting mum again."

"Children who are adept at playing-"

"Fathers who live vicariously through their daughters-"

Rose's laugh from the kitchen cut Alley off.

"Two peas in a pod, yeah?" she laughed.

"Don't even joke about that, mum."

At that moment Sherlock's phone chimed. He pulled it out and read the text.

"It's Lestrade. Looks like I'll be busy this morning. You can come, if you want."

"Actually I was going to do a test run with the Vortex Manipulator…unless you need me."

Sherlock's mind froze, just for a moment.

"Are you all right?" Rose continued, making him realize she noticed.

He'd never been able to hide things from her and it had been years since he tried. She always noticed his moods, even from the moment they met, well, the moment she met him for the first time.

"Would you mind if I took the sonic today? I forgot I told Molly I would stop by and help her determine a cause of death. She thinks it was poison, but there isn't enough evidence to determine what was used," he lied, hating that he had to lie to her, but today was the day.

He didn't register her clothes, because he stopped looking at her like that a long time ago, but after she mentioned the Vortex Manipulator that hadn't been working for the past five years, he shifted gears. His mind took in everything she was wearing, all the details. Today was the day he either saved the woman he loved or lost her forever.

She pulled out the sonic and handed it over. His hand closed over hers for a brief moment, but in that moment he relived every time they touched from the first to the last…no, not the last, he couldn't think like that because losing her wasn't an option. Then he slid the sonic into his pocket and tied his scarf.

He opened the door, but she stopped him.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" she asked in that teasing voice that always made him smile.

"Coat, scarf, wallet, Inspector Donovan's ID," he went over the list indicating each item as her grin broadened, "sonic, clothes, shoes…um…" he feigned thinking, "...no I don't believe so."

"Oh, come here you idiot genius," she said grabbing his lapels and pulling him closer, which made him grin.

"Scarred for life!" Alley yelled, stepping out the open door and descending the stairs, but he ignored that.

His arms wove around Rose's waist as she pulled him down, kissing him soundly as she always did when he went on a case without her or right before they ran headlong into danger together. It wasn't goodbye because they didn't say that. Neither one of them could fathom being without the other. It was just in case. After a few minutes they broke apart, but he continued to hold her, gazing into her eyes. The first part of her that had captured him, reminding him of someone he lost, but through them he found so much more. She reached up and he felt her brush something from his cheek and he realized a moment later it was a tear. He'd been holding them back, but somehow one managed to escape.

"I love you, Rose Holmes, more than solving cases and dancing," he said, giving her a smile and hoping she wouldn't question him.

"I love you, Sherlock Holmes, more than time and space," she replied with a grin, but he could see the question in her hazel eyes.

"Dad! School!" Alley called up the stairs, interrupting them.

He released Rose, reluctantly and stepped out the door, closing it behind. Then he paused, pressing his palm against the wood, closing his eyes for a brief moment, praying to time, space, and whatever gods existed that, that wouldn't be the last time he saw the woman he loved. Then he hurried down the stairs.

"Take long enough?" Alley asked, sarcastically. "I'm going to be late now."

He opened the front door.

"You're not going to school today."

"Wait. What? You never let me stay home, unless I'm sick and you always run an analysis or have Uncle John stop by to make sure." She grabbed her dad's arm before they reached the car as fear gripped her stomach. "What's wrong?"

"I don't have time to explain, Allison," he replied in a voice she'd never heard before, but one that filled her with dread. She released him and continued mutely to the car. She climbed in and closed the door. A moment later he started the car and pulled out onto the road. "We have less than forty minutes to change history." She glanced at him feeling the weight of his words. "I need you to do exactly what I say without fail, without question. Can you do that?"

"Yes," she replied in a small voice.

She saw him glance at her out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't comment. Instead the silence hung between them, like a weight, making the air heavy. She forced her fear back. Whatever this was, it was big. Huge. And it was bad, but she would do whatever he asked because, for all her talk and sass he was her father and she trusted him. He always did the right thing, even if everyone couldn't see that both she and her mum could.

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><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**


	3. Saving Him

And again...watch out for the feels. :)

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><p>Rose tried to shrug off Sherlock's behavior after he left, but she couldn't help feeling like she had when she first met him. That feeling that told her he knew more than she did. There was something, but she knew she couldn't ask. She learned that after her travels with the Doctor. That whole future knowledge thing. She paused. Yes, that's what it was, but what did that mean?<p>

The Vortex Manipulator. She mentioned it and that's when he got that look. She shoved her thoughts aside, knowing she couldn't change things. Even if something went wrong she couldn't alter the past. That might alter her future and their life together and she wouldn't change anything no matter what price she had to pay.

She sat down on the end of the bed and pulled on her socks and her trainers. Then she stood up and headed into the bathroom to do her make-up and then clip her hair up, letting the back fall down. If she was going into battle she could at least look good. She returned to their room and dug through the closet until she found it. The purple jacket she wore to her last apocalyptic battle. She shrugged it on, grinning that it still fit. Then she picked up the Vortex Manipulator.

She'd already chosen a time and a destination. Choosing a date before she arrived in that universe so as not to bump into herself, making sure it wasn't a time and date she'd used before. This wasn't her first flashback into the past. The destination she choose was out of the way. A warehouse that sat abandoned for years. Better inside than out. Less likely to be seen. She punched in the coordinates and the date then pushed the button.

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><p>The serial killer made a mistake sending Sherlock that picture. The broken windows behind John told him it was an abandoned building. He sent the photo out to his homeless network and got a reply with the hour. An abandoned warehouse, usually a safe place to sleep if it rained, but someone had taken up residence a few days ago and he ran anyone out who ventured inside by opening fire on them, which told Sherlock he was armed. He wasn't concerned with that. His only concern was saving his friend and making sure the murderer knew the mistake he made.<p>

He stopped the cab far enough away to not be noticed and paid the cabbie before climbing out. The warehouse was a few blocks off, but it wouldn't take him long to get there. He gripped the gun in his pocket as he hurried down the street.

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><p>John couldn't deny he was worried. He hoped Sherlock wouldn't tell Mary. The last thing he needed was for her to put herself in danger to find him and with her past, not that he knew much about it, but he knew enough to worry that she would try to find him.<p>

He knew Marie would be all right, even if he didn't make it out of there because she would have both of them. He felt a tear slide down his cheek as he thought about her upcoming birthday and the very real possibility that he wouldn't be there.

A noise drew his attention and he turned his head. His kidnapper stepped into the large storage room he was being kept in. The chair purposely stationed in the center of the room for better light when the pictures were taken. There had only been one so far, but he'd been told there would be others. One a day to keep Sherlock in his place. He chose not to point out that that was something Mycroft had been trying to do for years and had thus far failed.

He heard the distinct sound of a gun being cocked. He glanced at the bloke who was now concealed in the shadows as another sound reached him. Footsteps from the hall across from him. He turned in that direction wondering if it was another homeless person, but he caught a familiar outline.

"Sherlock!" John shouted, knowing his friend couldn't see the kidnapper from his vantage point.

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><p>The familiar sensation passed and Rose found herself in a small room. She glanced around at the broken window, remnants of a desk, and debris littering the floor. She was alone. So far so good. Maybe she read too much into Sherlock's behavior. Maybe there was another reason. She typed in the location and date, setting the time for ten minutes later, but before she pushed the button John's voice reached her.<p>

"Sherlock!" her friend shouted.

Her entire body sprang into action. She'd only heard that much fear in John's voice a few times and it told her whatever was about to happen was life or death. Sherlock's life or death and the latter was never going to happen, not if she could help it.

She raced into the hall, turning toward the direction she knew his voice came from. Sherlock was standing at the end of the hall. He must have heard her because he turned back, but at that moment a gunshot rang through the warehouse. _No! God, no! _

She reached him a moment later. She pushed him out of the way. The bullet struck her in the chest. She heard another gunshot as she fell. Someone yelled. A man, but she didn't recognize his voice. In the next moment Sherlock was there, bending over her. She could see the confusion in his eyes and she almost laughed, it was a look he wore a lot back when their lives were all jumbled together, but she hadn't seen it very much in the last five years. She missed it.

"You…" he finally managed in a voice that told her he didn't understand. "Why?"

"'S not supposed to happen," she said.

She could feel her strength draining. Five minutes…maybe less. The bullet went all the way through, front and back. She felt it. She was bleeding out, but that didn't matter because he was there and he was worth it.

"What's not supposed to happen?"

What did she mean by that? Though he had an idea, but she spoke as if she knew. She couldn't. That wasn't possible. Did she follow him there? No, he would've noticed and she'd come out of a side room.

"You don't die here," she replied, trying to hold back the cough that wanted to come, but was unable to do so.

Her coughing fit reminded him that she'd been shot, shot saving him. He reached for his phone, but she took his hand.

"You need an ambulance," he insisted.

She grinned. She was dying why the hell was she smiling?

"There's not enough time. Eight minutes, yeah? I have less than five."

Less than five? How could she know that?

"Sherlock," John yelled, reminding Sherlock that they already had a doctor.

He tried to stand up, but she held his hand with more strength than he would've imagined possible under the circumstances. He glanced at her, irritated.

"John's a doctor. He can help," he tried.

"The bullet went through and through. You can do the calculations. I'm beyond John's help. Just…stay, yeah?"

She lifted his hand and with her other, removed his glove. He watched her, not sure what she doing, but unable to question her. He'd done the calculations and he knew she was right. Less than five minutes. She gave her life to save his and if staying with her, allowing her to hold his hand would give her some semblance of peace then he was willing to do that. She took his hand in hers and smiled.

"Better," she said, as she gazed into his eyes.

He tried to work out who she was and what she was doing in that warehouse. She'd been in that room, but a nagging feeling told him she didn't belong there.

"Who are you?" he asked.

Instead of answering she reached up and touched his cheek.

"You're…young."

His brows drew together as he tried to work out what she meant. Young? She wasn't much older than him. Six, maybe seven years, but she made it sound as if he were much younger.

Maybe the blood loss was idling her mind. Another cough. Worse than the last. She drew her hand away from his cheek, but not before he saw it. He took her hand with his free one and looked at it what caught his eye. A ring, but not just any ring. It…it couldn't be.

"Where did you get this?" he asked.

"You knew," she replied, gazing into his eyes without even glancing at the ring. "That's why you cried. Why…you slipped. You never said Holmes. You…always said…Tyler…even after…" another cough took hold. She was tired so very tired, but she was trying to hang on, wanting to spend just one more minute with the man she loved. The man who had become her entire life, who saved her.

Sherlock's mind tried to wrap around what she was telling him. Was her mind affected by the blood loss or was there something else going on? Something impossible. He didn't want to believe it, his rational mind tried to refuse it, but there was the ring. Proof that something else was at work. Then there were distinct smells, his flat, him, intermingled with the strawberry and jasmine she wore.

"What are you talking about? Holmes? What do you mean, _Holmes_?"

"This means…you knew…you…always knew, but 's okay." She grinned softly. "I knew…there would be a price…and if…loving you means…I die here…now…then 's okay. 'S worth it."

He felt as if something reached into his heart and wrenched loose a bit he didn't even knew existed. She loved him and he…he knew this was going to happen. He shoved aside the idea that it wasn't possible, focusing on the implications. He cried. He called her Holmes instead of Tyler. His name and the ring. She had the ring. What the hell did that mean? He knew, knew what it meant, as impossible as the situation was there was only one answer.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

She grinned, but he could see the light fading in her eyes.

"Please," he whispered, closing the distance between them as if he could somehow will her to hang on for just a few more moments because he had to know, had to know how this was possible, and that's when he drew close enough to really see her eyes. The room was dark, so he hadn't been able to tell, but her eyes…they were _her _eyes. He swallowed as his chest tightened. "Please," he pleaded, his composure slipping, "tell me who you are."

She grinned, her eyes closing for a moment and he knew if he hadn't drawn closer he wouldn't have heard her next words.

Another cough. She only had moments. His free hand cupped her cheek as if it had a mind of its own. She opened her eyes and focused on him. "I'm your impossible girl." For a moment something passed through her eyes. An emotion that he couldn't name. "Take care of Ally."

All the gears in his mind ground to a sudden halt. He swallowed.

"Alley?" he asked, his voice sounding unsteady.

Her eyes closed and then she was gone. Just gone. He felt the pulse in her neck. Nothing. His eyes gazed over her as his mind stumbled over an impossible truth. He knew who she was. His rational mind had no explanation. It simply wasn't possible, but he couldn't refute the evidence. The ring. His flat. His scent. The look in her eyes, the same way Mary and John looked at each other. The fact that she died saving him and did so without a second thought.

"Sherlock!" John yelled and he realized his friend must have been calling him throughout their exchange, but he was so focused on the woman, a woman whose name he didn't even know, that he hadn't heard his friend.

He laid her down and gently lifted her hand, removing the ring. His rational mind demanded proof. If she was who she claimed then that ring would give him the proof.

He stood up, pocketing the ring and crossed the room to untie John.

"What the hell were you doing?" his friend demanded.

"Fulfilling a last request," he relied, his voice sounded odd even to him. Thick with emotions that he tried to shove back into the room, but it was proving harder than normal.

"Fulfilling a…Oh, god, did she?"

"Yes," he replied, working at the knot that bound John's hands.

"Why the hell didn't you untie me sooner? I'm a bloody doctor!"

"You couldn't have saved her. The bullet went through and through. Nicked her lung I believe. She had less than five minutes."

"You could've let me try!"

"She knew she was dying and she knew you couldn't save her. She asked that I stay with her."

He finished untying his friend. John stood up, rubbing his wrists.

"Hang on. What do you mean she knew I couldn't save her?"

"That's what she said," Sherlock replied.

John's chest tightened as a thought struck him. That maybe he knew the woman lying dead by the hall. At that moment a flash of light from the other side of the room startled him. Both he and Sherlock raced across the room. The woman's body was gone.

"Where did she go?" John asked, gazing around the room.

"I…I…" Sherlock stammered, trying to work out how a body could vanish. It wasn't possible, but then she wasn't possible. _I'm your impossible girl_. "I don't know."

Bodies didn't disappear. That just didn't happen. John glanced at Sherlock and saw the same stunned look he wore. No help there then.

"Do you know who she was?" he asked.

"I believe…I believe she was my wife," Sherlock said.

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><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**If you have time reviews are always welcome. :)**


	4. The Silencing Killer Pt1

Wow! You guys are brilliant! I've had so many fantastic responses I thought I'd post another chapter as a thank you! :)

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><p>John sat on the sofa, feigning reading the paper when, in fact, he was keeping a close eye on Sherlock who sat at the desk, an open laptop in front of him, but paying no attention to the screen or the far wall where his eyes seemed to be trained as his steepled fingers tapped rhythmically against his chin. He was thinking about <em>her. <em>

Three months gone and during every lull in cases Sherlock's mind turned back to the woman who died for him. As each day passed her mystery only grew, her existence becoming more impossible. He'd looked up every Tyler in London and then the entire country before widening his search and still nothing. None of them were her. She hadn't been lying. There wasn't a reason for her to lie, not when she was dying…dying for him. He sighed without notice.

He could recall every moment of their interaction. From the second she pushed him out of the way to her last words. _I'm your impossible girl. _Her existence made about as much sense three months later as it had in that warehouse. And where had her body gone? How had it vanished?

He examined the ring that first day, retrieving the original from his mother the next day, promising on pain of death he would return it unharmed, which let out a few experiments, but he knew how important it was to her, being her mother's wedding ring. The tests came back the same every time. Not two identical rings. Two of the same ring, which wasn't possible. The same flaws in the stones, exactly the same. Both metals had the same chemical compound. They were the same age. There was only one difference. The original didn't have an engraving, but the one she wore did. _My impossible girl._

John glanced up as Sherlock sighed again. His friend had called the woman his wife. Something the doctor's mind couldn't wrap around. It was true Sherlock could care, but a wife? And one his friend never mentioned?

He stayed that first night because Mycroft didn't have to tell him it was a danger night. As much as Sherlock tried to hide it he could hear the desperation in his friend's voice. Not like when Sherlock thought _the woman _was dead, no, far more than he'd ever seen. Almost a haunted look.

He called Mycroft that night and asked about Sherlock's wife. The elder Holmes had been completely taken back. Having no idea who John was referring to. This drew Mycroft's interest, but after weeks of searching and digging the elder Holmes had no more knowledge about this _wife _than he had after John recanted their exploits that night and the little information the detective shared.

Sherlock was drawn out of his thoughts by the sound of a text. He'd taken to reading his own texts after sending a description of that woman to his homeless network. All the evidence from that night pointed to one impossible possibility. She was his wife, his _future _wife, which meant he would see her again. His rational mind was still reluctant to fully believe it, evidence or not.

He pulled out his phone, noting the way John watched his every movement, but he ignored his friend as he read the text.

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><p>Rose felt the familiar sensation that she'd come to associate with materializing with the Vortex Manipulator. She glanced around the dark London street. <em>Bloody Vortex Manipulators! <em>This wasn't the hospital. She looked at the readings. _Bloody hell. _She was eleven years, three months, and five days off. Not to mention the wrong side of London. It usually wasn't that far off, okay there were two instances, but for the most part it was pretty accurate.

The Vortex Manipulator zapped, startling her. _What the hell? _

While she tried to work out what the hell was going on a woman's terrified scream reached her. Forgetting the device, she hurried toward the sound, reaching in her coat pocket and realizing she wasn't armed. _Bollocks! _She hadn't anticipated danger this time and she could almost hear Sherlock reminding her that with the lives they led she should always anticipate danger. She rolled her eyes at the thought.

She slowed down as she drew near the alley entrance.

"No! No! Let me go!" a woman yelled, late teens, early twenties judging from the sound of her voice.

Rose peeked around the corner in time to watch a man drag the woman by the hair from the back of a black van toward a door in the building she was leaning against. There was a lamp above the door and as he passed under the light she felt her stomach drop. _No. It can't be. _

She recognized him immediately. One of the more notorious cases Sherlock worked before they met. A serial killer known as the Silencing Killer. The man paused, glancing around as if he could feel her eyes on him. Rose ducked back, leaning against the building and trying to slow her rapid pulse. This was bad. Really, extremely not good. The Sherlock in her mind told her she was being redundant, but she didn't reply.

"Please!" the woman shouted and a moment later Rose heard the door close on the woman's cries.

She closed her eyes and took a breath, knowing she couldn't stand by and let that monster kill someone, even if it was the past, even if she shouldn't. She never could stand by and let things like that happen.

She pulled out her phone knowing that what she was about to do was probably as dangerous, if not more than chasing after that psycho, but she couldn't go after him without some form of backup. Lestrade didn't know her yet so a text to the Yard could bring anyone and it wouldn't be a priority, might even go overlooked. _He _wouldn't overlook her text because she knew him well, very well, knew exactly what to say to bring him there.

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><p>Sherlock read the text. It was from a blocked number. An address and two words. Code words that only three people knew. <em>Vatican Cameos<em>.

"Where's Mary?" the detective asked with such urgency that it startled John.

"Um…home," the doctor replied, setting the paper down. "Why?"

"Call her. Now," Sherlock insisted as he stood up and crossed the room to grab his coat and scarf.

John pulled out his phone and gave his wife a ring.

"Why am I calling Mary?" the doctor asked, also standing up and grabbing his own coat.

"Find out where she is."

"Hello?" John asked.

Sherlock shrugged into his coat and tied his scarf, seeming not to pay attention to the conversation, but in fact taking in every word. Two people besides himself knew those words and since John hadn't sent him the text that only left Mary…Mary and one other impossible possibility. He opened the door and heard John say his goodbyes before disconnecting.

"She's home," his friend announced as they started down the stairs. "Now are you going to tell me what the hell's going on?"

It was her, had to be. _His impossible girl. _Being his wife she would know the words and their meaning. His rational mind tried to insist that it simply wasn't possible and that this might very well be a trap, an elaborate trap to kill him, but he had to know. He didn't like not knowing.

He had to make sense of what happened back in that warehouse. Why she would die for him, even though he didn't know her. How she could have the ring and smell as she did and know about things not even John knew.

He climbed into the cab next to his friend and gave the cabbie the address.

"Are you planning on telling me what the hell's going on?" John growled.

Instead of answering he handed his phone over and let his friend read the text. John's eyes widened.

"You thought it was Mary?" his friend deduced.

"Yes," he replied, choosing not to point out that was obvious.

"Who do you think sent it?"

"_Her_."

It only took John a few seconds to realize who Sherlock was talking about. The woman from the warehouse. The one his friend claimed was his wife. John had been worried about Sherlock ever since that night, but he never thought for one moment that the detective actually snapped. He had to diffuse the situation, try to make his friend see the truth.

"Sherlock, she…she died," John said, slowly, watching his friend's reaction.

"I know that, John. I was there, if you recall," the detective replied, a slight flicker of some emotion that passed behind his friend's eyes too quickly for the doctor to name made his concern deepen.

"Okay. Then you realize this text can't actually be from her," John explained, handing Sherlock's phone back.

"But it is."

He watched the detective for a moment, trying to judge the situation. Sherlock didn't seem upset, but if his friend had gone round the bend the man might seem completely fine on the outside.

"That's…not possible."

"I know," Sherlock replied, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

John sat back after that, debating on whether or not he should call Mycroft. He decided the first chance he got he'd give Sherlock's brother a ring.

* * *

><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**If you have time reviews are always welcome. :)**


	5. The Silencing Killer Pt2

Warning...there is a serial killer so there is some creepy bad juju serial killer stuff...just saying. :)

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><p>Rose knew she should wait. It was the safest thing, but as the minutes ticked by she began inching around the corner. Footsteps behind her drew her attention and she glanced back down the road. She couldn't help grinning as she caught sight of her husband running toward her. This version wasn't her husband yet, but she couldn't not think of him that way, not after all the years they spent together.<p>

"Got my text then?" she asked, already knowing the answer, but not sure exactly what to say, this, most likely being the first time he'd seen her.

It wasn't until Sherlock drew up next to her that he noted the changes. The few wrinkles that had been around her eyes were softer. Her eyes themselves few years younger. She wore a deep purple jumper, black trousers, and a different pair of trainers, nearly the same color. The jacket was different as well. Black and a bit similar to his. She was younger, reaffirming the theory that his rational mind was still at odds with.

"I could hardly ignore such a text, but then you knew that," he replied.

"Bang on," she said, laughing as she resisted the urge to throw her arms around his neck.

That wouldn't do. He seemed to recognize her, but something in his eyes told her that he was puzzled over her, which meant he didn't know who she was. At that moment John came running down the street making her grin.

"We're all here then. Good."

John slowed down, eyes widening as they fell on her.

"No…but…you…you…" the doctor stammered, turning his attention to Sherlock. "How can she be here? How can she be a-"

"I don't know," Sherlock said, cutting his friend off.

She was younger and from her confused look he deduced that she didn't know what John was talking about. Didn't know she was going to die. Well, technically they were all going to die, but she didn't know that they'd witnessed her death not three months ago. He needed more information before he knew how to proceed with that knowledge and John revealing what they knew might frighten her, cause her to run and she held all the answers he sought.

"No…but…no…" his friend stammered, making Sherlock roll his eyes.

"Captain Watson," she commanded, reaching that part of him who would always be a soldier. John snapped to attention, eyes training on her like only a soldier could. "Did you bring your gun?"

The man felt his pockets.

"I-"

Sherlock withdrew John's gun and handed it over, but without taking his eyes from the woman. She not only knew who his friend was she knew his rank as well, but then that fit with the impossible picture.

"Who are you?" John asked after a moment.

The woman grinned as she held out her hand.

"Rose…" her eyes shifted to Sherlock and back. "…Tyler and you're Doctor John Watson formerly Captain John Watson wounded in Afghanistan."

John's eyes widened.

"How did you know that?" She merely smiled. The doctor glanced at the detective. "Sherlock, how did she know that?"

"I believe I've already explained that," he replied, giving John a knowing look.

"But…no…but you said-"

"Sherlock?" she interrupted, fearing that something was about to be said that she probably shouldn't know.

"Of course," he replied, patting his pocket. He glanced around the corner, noting the black van parked next to a side door. "Why did you bring us here?"

"Serial killer," she explained, also glancing around the corner. "He targets women and he's taken one into that building…" she glanced at her watch. "seventeen minutes ago. We have to stop him."

Before he could ask for further details she took his hand and practically pulled him with her as she raced down the alley toward the side door. She might be shorter than him, but she moved quickly. She released his hand and tried the door. It was locked. He reached for his lock picks, but before he could pull them out she pulled something that appeared to be a strange torch from hers. As he watched she pointed it at the door handle and pushed the button. It emitted a strange warbling sound and the soft click of the door unlocking greeted them. _How the hell did she do that? _

"What is that?" he asked, eyeing the device as she slid it back into her pocket.

"Sonic screwdriver," she replied, which told him nothing.

"Sonic what?" John asked, but she held a finger to her lips as she opened the door.

The hall appeared to be empty. He noticed her muscles tense indicating she meant to step into the hall first, but she didn't have a weapon. He grabbed her arm and locked eyes with her, intent on letting her know he was going first as he pulled his gun out, but the moment his eyes met hers he froze. Standing under the outside lamp he could clearly see the emotions churning behind her deep hazel eyes. Love, adoration, compassion. Things he would've mocked a few years ago, but those emotions were directed at him and there was something, something he couldn't name, but it told him that this woman knew him, possibly more than he knew himself. It forced his rational mind to realize the truth of who she was…or who she would be. He swallowed, stomping out the emotions that threatened to take over as he forced himself to tear his gaze from hers. Without an explanation he stepped through the door and into the hall. She followed mutely, but he could feel her eyes on him the entire time.

Rose followed him down the hall with John behind her. She mentally kicked herself for not bringing her own gun, but she hadn't used the Vortex Manipulator in almost two years and she'd only come back to retrieve something. An anniversary gift, something he mentioned a few times. She should've known something would happen, seemed no matter how much time passed she was still as jeopardy friendly as ever.

The hall spilt. Sherlock motioned for John to take the new corridor, but she continued down the hall with the detective. There was a door at the end and they cautiously crept toward it.

She couldn't help grinning, feeling that familiar rush of adrenaline. They drew up to the door and paused. She could see his plan without being told because she knew him well enough. Kick in the door, step into the room with the gun, fire if he had to. This was when they would do their _just in case _ritual. One kiss and the words just in case one of them didn't make it, not goodbye because they couldn't say that, but the man next to her wasn't the man she married, he would be, but he wasn't yet. So, instead, she put her arm on his, drawing his eyes first to her hand and then to her.

"Be careful, yeah?" she whispered.

His brows drew together in that way that told her he was a bit surprised and a bit confused, but he nodded, making her grin. Then he turned back to the door and kicked it open, stepping into the room with her right behind.

Henry Grant, the man who would be known as the Silencing Killer, was bent over an operating table that was bolted to the floor. The woman he drug in the room lay motionless on the table. Rose's heart dropped. Where they too late? In the next moment that was shoved to the back of her mind as Henry picked up an instrument and threw it at them, well, at Sherlock, but Rose put her arm out and the instrument, a scalpel, imbedded itself in her lower arm. Pain flared up her arm, but she ignored it as she pulled the scalpel out and dropped it to the floor. Then the man was running toward another door in the room.

Sherlock fired his gun, but Henry dashed through the door. The detective gave chase.

"Sherlock, wait!" she yelled, but he ignored her as he ran off after the psycho on his own. _Bloody hell. _She could've slapped him.

She hurried to the woman lying on the table. _Don't be dead. Please, don't be dead. _He hadn't cut into the woman, but her mouth was halfway sewn shut. Rose shivered in revulsion at the act, but she pushed her feelings aside as she felt for a pulse. It was there. Steady. Strong. She let out a sigh of relief.

He must have given the woman a sedative. When it wore off he would've began his sadistic torture, keeping her alive and awake, but unable to cry out. Another shiver passed through Rose as her thoughts turned dark and any fear of changing the past vanished in her desire to put a bullet through that man's head. Daleks, Cybermen, Werewolves she could handle, but sadistic serial killers brought out the worst side of her, a side she didn't even know existed until she tangled with the first one.

She pulled out her phone and called for an ambulance. As she ended the call she heard footsteps running down the hall.

"I heard a shot," John said hurrying into the room. "Is everything…" His eyes fell on the woman. "…Oh, god. Is she-"

He ran across the room.

"She's alive. I think he gave her a sedative, but can you remove that?" Rose asked, gesturing at the stitches. "I think it would be best if she didn't wake up like this."

"Yeah…um…" the doctor glanced around until his eyes fell on another scalpel. He picked it up and began carefully removing the stitches. "He's a sick bastard." He glanced at her seeming to remember who he was talking to. "Sorry."

"Don't be. Sick bastard pretty much sums him up," she replied, giving John a grin that he returned.

"Where's Sherlock?"

"The idiot genius ran off after our psycho serial killer on his own."

John glanced at her. He could hear the concern in her voice, something he wasn't at all used to hearing directed at Sherlock.

"He'll be all right."

"I hope so. It's just hard because he doesn't really know me yet," she paused, glancing at John as she realized what she said.

The doctor's eyes turned to her.

"What do you mean he doesn't know you yet? We saw you-"

She put her finger to his lips silencing him. She grinned at the confusion in his eyes.

"You can't tell me. Maybe you have seen me, but that hasn't happened yet to me."

"What?"

"Time travel," Sherlock said, his deep voice filling the room.

She turned to him, grinning because he was all right and half wanting to slap him for running off.

"Bang on," she replied, crossing the room toward him. "But then, brilliant as you are, I knew you'd figure it out."

He smiled in return.

"Sorry…what?" John exclaimed. "Time travel? Did you seriously say _time travel_?"

"You're patient appears to be waking," the detective replied, making John turn his attention to the woman lying on the table. "The killer's gone. If you're all right here Rose and I will direct the emergency workers inside when they arrive."

John merely nodded as he worked at untying the woman while telling her she was safe and help was on the way. Rose followed Sherlock out of the room and down the hall.

* * *

><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**


	6. The Silencing Killer Pt3

Sherlock paused at the outside door. Rose waited, wondering what he was doing and running through her list of things she could and couldn't tell him if he started questioning her, but he surprised her.

"Remove your coat," he instructed, not ordered, but it was fairly close. She raised her brow. "You were injured."

"'S nothing," she dismissed, although she knew that wasn't entirely true because she could feel the wound in her arm throbbing, but she ignored it.

"I'll be the judge."

Most people would think he was being demanding, but she could hear the concern in his voice. She'd always been able to judge his feelings, which were there whether he denied them or not. She sighed, removing her coat. The sleeve of her purple jumper was damp with her blood that had soaked through the material. She pulled the sleeve back, wincing as it grazed the wound.

He took her arm and turned it over. Blood seeped out of the wound, not too deep, probably due to her thick coat, but it was three inches below her wrist in the underside of her lower arm, plenty of veins for a thrown scalpel to strike. It missed the artery, luckily.

"I told you 's not bad," she said.

He glanced at her, which seemed to silence her, as if she knew arguing with him was a futile endeavor. A slight smile ghosted over his lips, pleased with that idea. Then he pulled out the bottle of rubbing alcohol that he pocketed from the crime scene. He pulled off the cap and glanced at her.

"This is going to hurt."

Then he poured enough over her wound to be sure it was clean. She hissed, but she didn't pull away from him. He replaced the cap and pulled out the gauze, also taken from the crime scene, and wrapped her wound.

He was being careful. It wasn't the same care he would show later, being married to him for nearly twelve years she could tell the difference, but this was the beginning. She could see that. Feel it in his touch and it brought out a smile. Even twelve years earlier he was still him, still the same man.

"Thank you," she said when he finished up and slowly pulled her sleeve down.

He caught her gaze, noting the smile she wore, but stopping himself from returning it. She would be gone soon, but he had questions. Questions he knew she wouldn't answer if he asked so he tried the other way.

"Can't have my wife wondering around London with an undressed injury," he replied.

Her eyes widened, just for a moment, but it was enough for him to know. Know the truth of his theory.

"I…I should go," she said, shrugging into her coat and wincing as she slid her injured arm into the sleeve.

"Back to your husband." He watched her carefully, but she didn't betray any emotions. Pressing on then. "And your child."

He paused, that being one more deduction than he anticipated. A child? Their child? A host of emotions swept over him in the blink of an eye. Fear, confusion, surprise and something else…something akin to what he felt when he found out he was John's best friend, but in the next moment he swept the feelings aside.

Her eyes snapped to his and, again, he was nearly overwhelmed by the emotions that lay behind them, but he ignored that as well.

"Or should I say _our _child," he continued, trying to throw her off, get her to reveal the answers he sought.

Instead she surprised him by taking his hands and grinning.

"Too brilliant for your own good. You know that, yeah?" she asked, giving his hands a squeeze.

He glanced at their hands in surprise before turning his gaze to her. The emotions she elicited in him were there again, bleeding through the door.

"Where did you come from?" he asked, unable to stop himself from voicing the question that had been plaguing him since she died saving his life.

"Somewhere…different," she said, which wasn't an answer.

"Was it Mycroft? Did he do this?"

She laughed and the sound made him want to smile, but he resisted the urge.

"Everything doesn't revolve around you and your brother. But, no, Mike didn't have anything to do with my arrival or our accidental meetings or the way I can travel in time. He doesn't know how I can do what I do. He'd like to know, I'm sure, but he stopped asking about it a long time ago. Almost twelve years."

He took in her words. Twelve years, there seemed to be something significant about the number, something important to her, but he couldn't deduce what it was. So Mycroft didn't have anything to do with this. _My arrival. _What did that mean? The word _arrival _and the way she used it seemed strange.

He turned her hand over in his. The ring was there on her finger. The one he'd taken off her body. As impossible as it may be his theory was correct. This woman who saved his life would one day be his wife. For a brief moment he felt compelled to tell her, even if she ran because maybe if she knew he could stop it, save her, but in that moment his mind ran through all the ends that revelation could bring. His death, which meant they'd never meet and for some reason that thought paused him. Why would that matter? He hardly knew her and he'd never been one for sentiment. Then there was John's death after his. That stilled the words. He couldn't let John die. He made a vow, one he never intended to break.

Sirens in the distance invaded his thoughts. She smiled, giving his hands another squeeze before releasing them.

"That's me then," she said. She lifted her other arm and pulled back the sleeve. There was some sort of leather device with a computer screen strapped to her arm. She punched in a series of numbers and then glanced at him, smiling.

"When will I see you again?" he asked, knowing this was far from the last time he would see her.

"When London goes dark," she replied, but before he could question her she pressed a button on that device and with an electrical zapping noise she was gone.

He stared at the spot she occupied not even a moment ago. The only trace of her was the scent of strawberry and jasmine that still hung in the air. She was gone. He grinned as he reached for the door. Rose Tyler. The most impossible woman he'd ever met. A woman who traveled in time. A woman he married. He shoved that thought aside, not entire sure how he felt about it and settled on the phrase she gave him. His impossible girl.

* * *

><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**


	7. Blackout Pt1

Rose typed the address and date into the Vortex Manipulator. She didn't use it very often, but Sherlock was stuck on a case. He needed those file and since the insurance company burned down five years ago taking all the files, computer or otherwise, with it there was only one way to get them. She pushed the button and a moment later found herself standing…in a bathroom. Okay, so loo at the insurance agency.

Good thing she was alone. The last thing she wanted to do was explain her unexpected presence to anyone, that'd only happened five times, which wasn't too bad given how many times she'd used the device.

She walked over to the door and pushed it open, stepping out into a short hall. She could hear noises from one end, noises that sounded suspiciously like restaurant chatter, but two waiters and a busboy at the other end, near the exit, drew her attention. One man was holding a young girl around the same age as Alley, seven, maybe eight. One hand clamped over her mouth while he held her off the ground by the waste.

"Let her go!" Rose demanded running over to them.

She reached for her gun, but the busboy was already holding a gun. He aimed it at her and she slowed down.

"Don't move," the busboy demanded.

"Shoot her," the waiter with the girl insisted.

"Yeah, because that won't draw attention," the busboy snapped. "Idiot." He motioned with the gun. "Come on then."

"What are you doing?" the second waiter asked.

"We can't leave her here. She's seen our faces."

"So, we've got…" the second waiter glanced at his watch. "Less than ten minutes and it won't matter."

"I don't know about you, but I don't want my face all over the news two seconds after the power comes back on."

Wait. What? Power? What power? Rose glanced at each of them in turn. The waiters, at least the big one holding the girl, seemed to be muscle. The busboy was the one in charge. At least, she thought so, though the second waiter seemed pretty bossy too.

"Fine," the second waiter snapped.

Okay, maybe he was the one in charge.

"Come on sweetheart," the busboy said, giving her a smile she really didn't care for.

She'd love nothing more than to knee him in the…she returned his smile with a sarcastic one of her own. One that seemed to say _yeah, you wish. _The second waiter opened the door, stepping out, followed by the brute holding the girl, then her, and the busboy last, still pointing the gun at her.

* * *

><p>"This woman claims that her husband's haunting her. He died two months ago, but even after she boxed his belongings up and put them in the attic she keeps finding them around her flat. Razor and aftershave in the bath. His robe draped over a kitchen chair. His clothes in the laundry," John said.<p>

He'd been trying to find a case for two days and he hadn't had any luck so far. Ever since Rose died saving Sherlock his friend had become obsessed with her. At first, of course, he thought Sherlock went round the bend, but after meeting the woman who ought to be dead he really didn't know what to think.

Time travel, someone coming back from the dead, not that that hadn't happened to him, mind, but none of it was normal. Cases. Now that was normal.

"If you're only going to waste my time, don't bother," Sherlock replied, keeping his gaze fixed out the window.

John didn't like the way his friend constantly looked out the window, more than he used to. It was almost as if he was waiting for something…or someone. Was Sherlock waiting for her? Probably.

"She's being haunted. That's not interesting enough for you?" John asked.

"She isn't being haunted, John. Someone's living in her attic. A man."

"Wait. What?"

"It's-" Sherlock paused as the power turned out. Not just Baker Street, but as far as he could see. This was exactly what he'd been waiting for. He grinned. "Finally."

"What happened?" John asked, the entire flat having gone dark.

"Power's out," Sherlock replied and he sounded almost gleeful, which worried the doctor.

Whenever Sherlock was happy it always made him nervous because it usually involved someone with a weapon, a murder, and at least one of them, usually him, in life or death danger.

"For the block?" he asked.

"All of London," Sherlock replied.

"Wait. What?"

At that moment Sherlock's mobile rang. He glanced at it and sighed. Just Lestrade. He decided to answer least the inspector tie up the line.

* * *

><p>Rose sat on the carpeted floor in the back of the van the men loaded both her and the girl into. Her back was against the left wall, her arms around the young girl as she eyed the busboy sitting across from her, still pointing the gun at her. She had her own weapon, but she didn't want the girl to get caught in the crossfire. That wasn't something she was willing to risk so she decided to wait and find out what they planned, hopefully a safer opportunity would present itself.<p>

"What do you want with her?" she asked.

"We were paid to…take care of her for a few days," the busboy replied with a smirk.

"Kidnap her you mean."

"Tomato, tamato," he shrugged, as if he really didn't care what she thought, which he probably didn't.

There were only a few reasons why someone would kidnap a child. She dismissed the first two. They didn't want her for themselves, which was good. Although none of them were wearing masks, which meant they were either planning on going into hiding after the job, something she doubted, or they weren't planning on leaving anyone alive who could identify them. Her entire body flooded with anger at that thought, but she held it back.

"Ransom?" she asked.

"Not sure. We don't ask questions. Just do what we're paid."

Hang on…what?

"Wait…so you're being paid to take her and hold her somewhere for a couple days?"

The busboy smirked again.

"Pretty smart for a blonde. I kind of like that."

She resisted the urge to tell him exactly where he could shove it. She had to be careful. She was more worried about the girl and her life might very well depend on how this played out.

* * *

><p>"Yes?" Sherlock snapped, irritated that Lestrade was tying up the line on the one night he'd been waiting a month for. The night he was to see her again. "And please tell me you're not calling to tell me London's gone dark. I can see that…or not see that as it were, for myself."<p>

"Wait. How did you know it was all of London?" Lestrade asked. Sherlock sighed. "Never mind. Do you know why the power's out?"

Another sigh.

"No and honestly I couldn't-"

"Someone hacked into the power grid and shut down the entire city, which means-"

"It was elaborate," Sherlock finished.

Someone shut down all of London. Something was going to happen, but what?

"Sherlock," John said, interrupting him.

"Not now, John, I'm-"

"It's Mycroft and he says it's an emergency."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. His brother thought everything was an emergency. Between Lestrade and Mycroft he wasn't going to have any time to find Rose.

"Call me if anything happens," he said, hanging up before the inspector could protest.

It wasn't as if he could find the hacker at the moment. Not without power. He took John's phone.

"What is it this time Mycroft? Afraid of sitting alone in the dark?" he asked.

"There's no time for games, Sherlock. The Ambassador's daughter has been taken," Mycroft snapped. "I'm on my way to Baker Street now."

Ambassador's daughter?

"Don't you have people for that sort of thing?"

"I can't spare them."

"What do you mean, you can't spare them? Is the Ambassador's daughter's kidnapping not a high enough priority for them?" he asked, knowing there was something more going on.

"What?" John exclaimed, but he ignored his friend.

"It's a distraction," Mycroft replied.

So there was something more going on.

"A distraction from what?" he inquired.

"My driver's pulling up now. I'll fill you in on the way."

Mycroft disconnected before Sherlock could ask any more questions. He grabbed his coat, shrugging into it, then his scarf. He glanced at John and noted his friend doing the same.

"What's going on?" John asked as he opened the door.

"Mycroft said he'd fill us in on the way," Sherlock replied stepping out and hurrying down the stairs.

He heard John follow and a few minutes later Sherlock climbed into the back of Mycroft's car while John sat in the front, next to the driver. His brother was texting, but when the car pulled out Mycroft lowered his phone.

"So?" Sherlock asked, impatiently.

"The power was taken out all across London," his brother said.

"I already knew that."

"Yes, but you probably didn't know it was done by a terrorist organization." Sherlock raised his brow. "We captured their leader a few weeks back. This is their attempt to free him."

"And the girl?"

"Something to occupy us, probably not their only plan, which is why I can't afford to pull people in."

He smirked, knowing his brother too well.

"You're bringing me in because you aren't sure you can trust them."

Mycroft glanced at him, but that glance was enough to confirm his suspicions. His smirk became a smile.

"There were very few people who knew where the Ambassador would be dining tonight and that his family would be present."

"You really should take better care of the people you hire, brother dear," he replied.

Mycroft glared in irritation.

"Once we locate the Ambassador's daughter and this threat-"

Sherlock's eyes snapped to his brother.

"_We_?" he exclaimed.

"I'll be accompanying you, of course," Mycroft replied with a grin.

"Accompanying me?" Sherlock asked, that being the worst idea he ever heard.

He didn't at all like the sound of that. If his brother was going to be there what did Mycroft need with him?

"Certainly. She is the Ambassador's daughter after all."

He raised his brow.

"I thought you didn't do leg work."

Mycroft gave a loathsome sigh.

"Not if I can help it," his brother replied, giving him a smile, "but don't fret, I'll leave most of that to you and John, of course."

So, his brother was bringing them along so they could do all the work and Mycroft could take all the credit. He rolled his eyes. The last thing he wanted was to work a case with his brother. The man was an incessant show off.

* * *

><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**If you have time reviews are always welcome. :)**


	8. Blackout Pt2

Thank you for all the favorites and follows and, of course, all the lovely reviews! :)

* * *

><p>They arrived at the crime scene. A posh restaurant on the upscale side of town. Sherlock climbed out of the car. He noted the two men stationed near the door. The way they held themselves, eyes trained front, they might be wearing civilian clothes but…he glanced at Mycroft, raising his brow.<p>

"Soldiers?" he asked.

"I couldn't allow anyone to leave," his brother replied, as if that should've been obvious.

"Where are the police?" John asked.

"Why would I involve the police?" Mycroft inquired.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because a child's been kidnapped?" the doctor replied with grating sarcasm.

"Not _a child, _John. The Ambassador's daughter. My dear brother couldn't chance that getting out. Think of the scandal. Am I right, brother dear?" Sherlock asked, eyeing Mycroft. His brother cleared his throat in irritation. The detective glanced at John, smiling. "The Ambassador's daughter taken right out from under the watchful gaze of Mycroft Holmes."

"Wait. What?" John asked, wondering exactly what Sherlock meant by that.

It sounded as if Mycroft was there.

"You _were_ keeping an eye on them, weren't you Mycroft?" Sherlock asked, glancing at his brother.

Mycroft averted his gaze, telling the detective that he had, in fact, been watching the Ambassador. Making sure nothing happened, but then it had and now his brother was on the hook, which would be the only reason his brother would have anything to do with working an actual case. He grinned as they entered the restaurant.

There were six more soldiers inside, also in civilian clothes, most likely to keep the customers from causing a riot. They probably believed the men to be from the Yard, if he knew his brother half as well as he thought.

"Wait," John said after stepping inside. "How can the lights be on if the power's out?"

"Mycroft sent a generator ahead. It's fairly obvious the lighting is temporary. The restaurant's ceiling lights are still off as are the wall scones," Sherlock replied, offhandedly as he pointed them out.

"Oh."

Two soldiers were stationed outside the hall that led to the restrooms and back exit.

"No one's been allowed in the area?" he inquired, already knowing the answer.

"Obviously not. I couldn't have the area contaminated," Mycroft replied.

"You've been keeping people out of the bathrooms the entire time?" John inquired.

"You witnessed the kidnapping," Sherlock said, ignoring his friend's question, wanting to get this case solved as quickly as possible for two reasons.

One, he loathed working with his brother and two he wanted to be free if Rose sent him a text or called. He spent a month planning what he was going to say to her…to get answers.

"Only what happened inside," his brother replied.

"Any witnesses?"

"One. A waiter."

"I'll need to speak with him," Sherlock replied entering the hall.

"Obviously."

The detective stopped halfway down the hall.

"How did it happen?" he asked, glancing at Mycroft.

"The child left the table, I suspect to use the restroom. She walked down the hall followed by a waiter. Six foot seven, stocky, low IQ-"

"Yes. The muscle. Moving on," Sherlock snapped, not wanting to spend the next twenty minutes on one individual.

Mycroft blinked in irritation, but pulled himself, grudgingly, from his description.

"_The muscle _as you put it, took hold of the girl, covering her mouth to keep her quiet while another waiter, five foot six, medium build…" Mycroft glanced at Sherlock trailing off. "And a busboy entered the hall. The girl was taken out the back exit with a woman."

"A woman?" he asked.

His brother hadn't mentioned a woman. Who was she? Obviously Mycroft found her to be unimportant, which meant unrelated to the Ambassador.

"She exited the bathroom as the men were nearing the back door. She appeared to be trying to stop them, but the busboy held a gun on her."

"So two people were kidnapped," John said and Sherlock could tell from the look on his friend's face that John had also come to the conclusion that the woman was unimportant to Mycroft, which was why he hadn't mentioned her.

"Technically, I suppose."

Sherlock had already deduced everything he could from the hall, but there was something familiar…something he couldn't quite place. Wait. He drew closer to the bathroom door. The one the woman had exited. There was a scent, not perfume, not quite…his eyes widened as he realized exactly what it was. He felt his pulse quicken as he eyed his brother.

"The woman. Describe her," he demanded, his voice icy calm.

"Um…" Mycroft stammered, taken back by the desperation in his brother's voice, something most people might've taken as anger, but he knew better. Although Sherlock was prone to, he almost shivered in revulsion, emotion on occasion this seemed different, stronger. He watched his younger sibling carefully. "Blonde. Petite. Five foot Five-"

"What was she wearing?" Sherlock interrupted.

It was her. Rose. He was sure the moment he smelled the faint traces of strawberry and jasmine that still clung to the area. She was there, not an hour ago. She witnessed the men taking the Ambassador's daughter and like she'd done when that woman was taken by the serial killer she couldn't stand by. There hadn't been time to text him. She tried to stop them and they took her too.

"Long dark coat, a bit similar to the one you wear, but shorter. Black trousers, trainers-"

"I need to speak with the witness," Sherlock interrupted, walking past Mycroft and into the restaurant.

John watched the display. He knew who Mycroft's description matched, who Sherlock thought the woman was. Could it be her? It seemed too much of a coincidence to him. He caught the look the elder Holmes was giving him. Mycroft wanted to know what was going on, but ever since they tangled with that serial killer he hadn't said anything about Rose. Not to Mycroft, not even to Mary, mainly because he was worried his wife would think he was as mad as he thought Sherlock had been. With Mycroft though, he was more worried about what the man might do.

"Who is she?" Mycroft asked.

"Ask your brother," he replied, hurrying past the man before he could be further questioned.

* * *

><p>The van finally stopped. The engine turned off. Rose, glanced at her watch, carefully concealing that fact by making it seem as if she were checking the girl. Fifty-seven minutes. That's how long they'd been driving. She made sure to pay attention to every turn, whether right or left and how long they traveled between turns. Being married to a genius who was as human she was Rose learned a few tricks and she used those when she had need, like observing details and storing that information. She wasn't on Sherlock's level, Ally was or would be when she was older and it wasn't something Rose's mind did automatically, like her husband, but when it was necessary, as it was now, she could do it.<p>

A few minutes later the back opened.

"Get out," the busboy ordered, motioning with the gun.

She kept the girl close to her as she slowly walked to the open doors where the larger waiter, _the muscle_, as she thought of him, something she knew Sherlock would call him, waited.

"Take the girl inside," the busboy instructed as soon as they climbed out.

The Muscle, grabbed the girl and wrenched her away from Rose. The girl started to yell and kick at the man, but she knew that was futile. At the moment the three men were in charge of the situation.

"It's all right, sweetie," Rose said, using the same endearment she used for her daughter when Ally was afraid, same one her mum used for her. "I'll be there in a minute. You'll be all right."

The girl stopped and allowed the man to lead her toward a cottage the van was parked next to, but she wasn't happy. Rose could blame the girl.

"Keep this on her," the busboy said, handing the gun to the second waiter.

So the busboy _was _the one in charge.

"What are you doing, Tom?" the second waiter asked.

No masks and now they were using names. That didn't bode well for her future, but it was the girl she was more worried about.

"I'm not bringing her inside until I make sure she isn't hiding anything," Tom replied stepping toward her.

"Bring her inside? She's a liability. We should get rid of her," the man insisted, cocking the gun.

Tom rounded on the other man.

"And that's why you're not in charge, Darnel."

"I know why you want to keep her around," Darnel smirked.

"She kept the girl under control. We're going to have to keep that little brat for the next day or so. I don't know about you, but I'd rather not listen to her scream the entire time. As long as this one…" Tom eyed Rose, "can be useful she stays alive. Understand?"

Darnel didn't seem happy about the idea, but he nodded.

"Fine."

Tom stepped toward her again and began frisking her, boldly, making her want to slap him. He checked her ankles, calves, thighs, getting very close to her…she glared at him wanting nothing more than to kick his face as he smirked.

"Would you hurry up?" Darnel snapped. "I don't want to stand out here all night.

Tom grudgingly moved on to her sides and paused. She knew what he found. He eyed her.

"What's this then?" he said, but she could tell he already knew.

He unbuttoned her coat and reached next to her right side, brushing her chest in the process. Not by accident. She betrayed no emotion, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of thinking he frightened her. She'd come across far worse than him, but she also knew in the right situation he could be very dangerous. He pulled her gun out. She noted the widening to Darnel's eyes.

"I told you we should kill her. She's with the police," Darnel insisted, aiming the gun at her.

"I'm not with the police," she replied, calmly, not wanting to set him off further.

"Why do you have a gun?" Tom asked.

"For protection," she said, grabbing the first credible story that came to mind. One of the cases she worked with Sherlock.

"Protection?"

"It's my ex-husband. He's been stalking me."

"So you bought a gun?"

"Not at first. I went to the police, but they said they couldn't do anything until he did something and when he finally did break into my flat I called them, but they said there wasn't enough evidence. I wanted to protect myself so, yeah, I bought a gun."

Tom looked over the weapon.

"Military grade." _Bullocks! _Of course he'd know about guns. "Where did you get it?"

"I didn't want to wait so I found someone who would sell me one," she lied.

Tom grinned.

"Not exactly legal."

She smirked in reply.

"It's not as if I kidnapped a little girl."

That stopped his grin and for a moment she worried that she might've stepped over the line, but his grin returned as he slid her gun into the back of his jeans.

"True." He reached into her coat pockets one at a time. "Let's see what else you're hiding."

He pulled her mobile out. She held the sigh in that wanted to escape. There went her idea to text Sherlock. He slid it into his own pocket. She was glad it was password protected. The last thing she needed was for them to find out she was connected to Sherlock Holmes. They'd either use that knowledge or kill her.

He reached into her other pocket and she knew what he would find. Her mind quickly came up with an explanation; one she hoped would keep him from taking it away. His brows drew together in confusion as his hand closed around the sonic. He pulled it out, examining it. He pressed the button and it emitted the familiar warble.

"It's for my little brother," she lied. Tom raised his brow. "It's one of those sci fi toys."

To her relief he slid it back into her pocket.

"What're you doing?" Darnel demanded.

"It's just a toy," Tom replied. "Might keep the girl occupied."

"What if she uses it to escape?"

Tom rounded on the other man again.

"Are you questioning my decision?" he snapped.

They eyed each other for a moment and then Darnel finally looked away.

"Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you," the man grudgingly replied.

Tom took his gun back and then grabbed Rose's arm and led her toward the cottage with Darnel following. Tom seemed to be taken with her, which she knew could be both good and very bad, but if it came down to it she might be able to use that. Only as a last resort though because she knew how dangerous that could be.

* * *

><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**


	9. Blackout Pt3

Nearly thirty minutes had passed and Sherlock was no closer to figuring out who took Rose and the Ambassadors daughter. He questioned the waiter who had been out on a smoke break and watched the men load them into the back of a black van. He took down the description, noting Mycroft hanging on every word. He also noted the way his brother had been watching him since he asked about the woman, but he ignored that. Not really caring what his brother thought.

"Tell me you have something," he asked as John returned from questioning the kitchen staff.

"According to the employees they were temps from an agency, unfortunately with the blackout I can't get hold of anyone at the agency-"

"Of course not," Sherlock replied, snappishly in his irritation. "This was all meticulously planned." He walked toward the back exit. "I'll have a look at the outside."

He doubted there would be any more clues out there. At least, anything that would tell him where they were going. The blackout made things nearly impossible. Mycroft couldn't access the cameras and since the blackout began moments after the van left the parking lot none of the cameras would've picked anything up anyway.

Mycroft followed John and his brother out into the evening air, keeping a close watch on Sherlock. The woman. Who was she? His brother knew and she seemed to be important to him. He remembered John asking about a wife. As far as he knew Sherlock never married. He couldn't recall his brother ever being that close to anyone.

Sherlock had been infatuated with Miss Adler and he knew about their brief tryst. His brother had cared about her, but with Miss Adler it had been more of an infatuation and a way to protect herself, she being more inclined toward individuals of a more feminine persuasion.

He also knew about the _other _trysts. As was the case with Janine, but those had been out of necessity. The women in question more pawns, something he could understand, but a wife…he didn't believe it. He, of course, checked, just to make sure, but there were no records and none of the people he contacted, even the ones who had contact with Sherlock during the two year absence could recall his brother ever mentioning a wife.

* * *

><p>Rose sat on the small bed with the girl, Bonnie, she learned. The room was bare with the exception of the bed they were sitting on. Not even a window. The only way out was through the locked door. She could get it open with the sonic, but that still left three men on the other side with two guns that she knew of.<p>

"I want to go home," Bonnie said.

"I know," Rose replied in a soothing voice, brushing the girl's red curls with her hand. "We'll get out of here."

"How?"

"I'll think of something, yeah?"

Though she wasn't entirely sure what that something was…yet.

"What?" the girl asked.

She could see the fear in Bonnie's green eyes and she wanted to take that away.

"I'm not sure yet, but I have something they don't know about." She pulled her sonic out and gave the girl a smile. "A secret weapon."

"What is it?"

She handed the sonic to Bonnie, hoping it would take a bit of that fear away.

"It's called a sonic screwdriver."

The girl looked at it for a moment and then handed it back.

"It doesn't look like a screwdriver."

Rose grinned.

"Because it's _sonic_."

"What's it do?"

"All kinds of things. Unlocks doors, scans computers, cuts through wire, recharges batteries-"

Bonnie's eyes lit up.

"It charges batteries?" the girl asked and Rose could hear the hope in her voice.

"Yeah, why?" she asked.

"Could it charge the battery in my phone?"

Rose's entire focus turned to the girl. Hope rising like the sun in her chest.

"You have a phone?"

"Yeah." Bonnie reached into the sash in her dress and pulled a small, light pink phone out. Rose grinned. "I wasn't supposed to bring it, which is why I hid it, but the battery died. I was going to charge it in the loo, but when they grabbed me I dropped my purse and that's where the charger is."

"But you didn't have your phone in your purse?"

"I did, but I was texting one of my friends when I was at the Embassy with my parents, but when my dad walked it I hid it in my dress."

Rose grinned.

"Good thing," she said, taking the girl's phone.

She pulled the back case off and used the sonic to charge the battery. Once it was charged she could text Sherlock and give him directions. She wasn't sure if he knew her yet, but there were two words that would get him there.

* * *

><p>Sherlock examined the area where the van had been parked. He was right about the lack of clues. There wasn't anything that would give him an idea of where they went. He knew he would find them because each time he saw her she was younger. He moved forward while she moved back, which told him that he solved the case, that he somehow was able to find her, but at the moment he couldn't see how.<p>

There had to be something, something he was overlooking. His phone chimed and he rolled his eyes, sure it was Lestrade. He pulled it out with a sigh and paused, glancing at the number. Not one he recognized. A text from a number he didn't know. He pulled the text up.

_Vatican Cameos _

Relief flooded through him and he only then realized that he'd actually been…concerned. Why was he concerned? She was his wife or would be in future. They had a…he shoved that thought aside, not even sure how he felt about it.

_Rose?_

_-SH_

He sent the text and waited.

Mycroft watched carefully as his brother's entire demeanor changed with the sound of a text. Sherlock became more irritated, but when his brother read the text Sherlock changed once more. Relief. He watched the tension drain out of his brother's shoulders and back. Then he watched Sherlock type out a text and send it. Who was he talking to?

* * *

><p>Rose grinned when the text came back with her name. He knew her. She grinned. That made things a whole lot easier. She was hoping to avoid a lot of unnecessary questions because she wasn't sure how much time she had before one of the men decided to check on them.<p>

"Is it the police?" Bonnie asked.

"Better," she replied, giving the girl a smile before she typed in the directions.

"Who's better than the police?"

"My husband."

* * *

><p>Another chime and Sherlock read her new text.<p>

_R 3m – L 5m – R 37m – L 6m – R 1m – R 5m Cottage._

He grinned.

"Clever girl," he said, as he typed a reply and hit send.

* * *

><p>Sherlock's reply came almost immediately.<p>

_On my way._

_-SH_

She grinned.

"We'll be out of here soon," she said, turning the phone off, least it make a noise when someone came to check on them.

"Are you sure he's going to be able to get us out of here?" Bonnie asked.

"Yep," she replied, popping the 'p.' If there was one constant in her life it was that she knew Sherlock would always come for her. From the first day she meant him.

Now all they had to do was wait.

* * *

><p>Mycroft's brows drew together. He caught the sentiment in his brother's voice. Admiration if he was correct, which he always was. Who was this <em>clever girl<em>? What he would give to snatch that phone out of Sherlock's hand, but no matter. He could trace the number once the power was restored.

"Wait," John said, having heard Sherlock's words. "Is that _her_?"

Mycroft's focus turned to the doctor. _Her_? John knew. Wait…before he could voice the question forming in his mind Sherlock walked toward his car.

"I know where they are," the detective announced.

"If you know where they are I can send a team in-" Mycroft began.

"What's the matter, brother dear, afraid of a little leg work?"

"Stop playing games, Sherlock and give me the address," his brother insisted.

Sherlock paused after opened the passenger door and eyed Mycroft over the roof of the car.

"I've seen what your _teams _can do first hand. Snipers, helicopters, which would most likely result in a hostage situation. Care to take that chance with the Ambassador's daughter?"

He knew his brother well enough to know exactly what to say to make Mycroft go along with him. The last thing he wanted was for her…for either of them to get caught up in some situation Mycroft's _team _might create. It would be safer if he and John took care of the three men.

Mycroft smirked, drawing a confused glare from Sherlock.

"Hm. Ever the night slaying dragons," his brother replied.

He rolled his eyes, sliding into the seat, leaving John to sit in back with Mycroft while he gave the driver directions.

John climbed into the back with Sherlock's brother, knowing that no matter how short the trip was, it was definitely going to seem like forever in Mycroft's company. He caught the looks between the two and the way Mycroft watched Sherlock.

The driver started the car and as they pulled out to the right and then headed down the road John tried to turn his focus out the window.

"Who's the damsel then?" Mycroft asked.

"Damsel?" John inquired.

"The damsel in distress. I hear knights go in for that sort of thing."

Rose. John resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," he lied.

"Come now, John, you've never been very good at deception."

He knew even if he had been good at it Mycroft would be able to tell. It was the only way in which he and Sherlock were alike.

"I told you to ask your brother."

Mycroft watched him for a moment. John tried not to shift under the intensity of the man's gaze.

"I only ask because I worry about him," the elder Holmes prodded after a moment.

"There isn't anything for you to worry about," he replied.

"Isn't there?"

A calculating gaze.

"No," John replied, honestly, not sure until that moment about his feelings toward Rose.

The relationship was strange, to say the least. Impossible was a better word, but the woman herself seemed…good, nice, nothing like what he would've ever expected. Not that he had, in fact, ever expected anyone. At least, not after that stint with Janine. Sherlock had shown that he could actually care about someone because his friend had cared for Irene.

"Sherlock seemed…concerned," Mycroft said.

"He's worried about her, that's all," John explained.

"Ah," the elder Holmes said with a smile. "So there is a _her_." _Shit! _"You know what happened to the last woman my brother showed concern for."

"She isn't like that."

Mycroft raised his brow.

"Isn't she?"

"You said yourself, she tried to stop those men from taking that girl. Does that sound like something Irene would do?"

Mycroft seemed to think for a moment.

"No, I suppose not." The man's intense gaze turned back to him. "Who is she?"

"I…" He wasn't going to give Mycroft her name. That was for Sherlock to decide. "I'm not sure."

The elder Holmes eyed him.

"The wife?" Mycroft asked, noting the look of surprise on John's face. A look that told him he was correct in his deduction. He grinned. "Then I suppose it's time I meet my brother's wife."

* * *

><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**


	10. Blackout Pt4

This is quite a long one. Hope you enjoy it! :)

* * *

><p>Rose kept track of the time. It took fifty-seven minutes for the van ride, but she knew it would take a bit longer for Sherlock. He wouldn't pull up in a car outside the cottage, which meant he'd get out beyond the trees that surrounded the place.<p>

She glanced at her watch. Five minutes to go. He was close. Probably pulling up somewhere, concealing the car. She doubted he'd take a cab, too many things could go wrong with that scenario, the cabbie turning around next to the cottage being one.

"My husband should be here soon," she said, looking at Bonnie. "But it might get loud and scary so I want you to get under the bed okay?"

She stood up, pulling the girl up with her.

"Why?" Bonnie asked.

"Because it's safer under there."

"Okay." The girl bent down and began sliding under the bed, but she paused, looking at Rose. "What about you?"

"I'll be fine," she said, bending down next to Bonnie.

"But I need you to promise me you'll stay under there, yeah? No matter what you hear, no matter what happens."

"Okay."

* * *

><p>Sherlock crouched in the trees between John and Mycroft, irritated that his brother insisted on coming along. He knew Mycroft's insistence stemmed from his brother's suspicions about Rose, but he wanted to keep the truth of who she was from Mycroft as long as possible. He didn't want that sort of complication. He heard his brother's hiss of irritation.<p>

"Why are we crouching in the…" now a sigh of irritation, "…underbrush."

"It's called leg work, Mycroft," Sherlock snapped in a low voice. "This is precisely why I asked you to stay in the car."

"And leave you on your own?"

There was a reason Mycroft insisted on his presence and Sherlock knew exactly what that reason was.

"You never worried over me before, why the sudden change?"

"I always worry over you."

"Girls," John snapped, loud enough to stop their argument.

If he never worked a case with both Holmes brothers again it would be far too soon. He wasn't sure which one he wanted to punch more. Sherlock turned his attention back to the cottage while Mycroft glared daggers at him, but he ignored that.

"We need a plan," the doctor continued.

"I already have a plan," Sherlock said.

"Let me guess," Mycroft replied. "Go in, guns blazing."

"I'm not an idiot, Mycroft-"

"That's debatable."

Sherlock glared at his brother.

"John will go to the front door and knock, creating a distraction-"

"Me?" John asked. "Why me?"

"I can't do it," Sherlock said.

"Why?"

"All that news coverage over my sudden return from the dead, not to mention the popularity of your blog and the fact that I'm in the tabloids every other week."

"Okay that lets you out, but what about Mycroft."

"Me?" the elder Holmes asked as if that were the most bizarre question he ever heard.

"Too likely they'd shoot him," Sherlock replied, shooting John a grin.

"I suppose you're right," the doctor replied, returning his friend's grin.

Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"Droll, brother dear."

* * *

><p>Rose was sitting on the bed when the sound of someone knocking on the front door drew her attention.<p>

"Remember what I said," she told Bonnie, who was hiding under the bed as she instructed. "Don't make any noise and stay there no matter what."

The handle of the door on the room moved slightly and she could hear a key being inserted into the lock. This was why she told Bonnie to stay under the bed. A moment later Tom opened the door brandishing her gun. He glanced around the room, closing the door as he entered.

"Where's the girl?" he asked.

"What girl?" Rose inquired, feigning innocence.

"The door was locked. I know she didn't get out." He glanced at the bed and smirked.

"Leave her alone. She's just a little girl," Rose insisted, wanting to stand up and put herself between them, but she didn't want him to know about the phone that she slid under her leg when she heard the door opening.

He gazed over her in a way that made her skin crawl. Then he closed the distance between them and looked down at her.

"What are you going to do for me?" he asked.

She knew exactly what she wanted to do for him, broken arm, femur, at least one black eye, were the immediate things that came to mind. At that moment a gunshot interrupted them. It came from the other side of the closed door.

"Sounds like you've got other things to worry about," she replied with a grin.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her off the bed. The phone dropped to the floor. His eyes snapped from the girl's mobile to her.

"Did you call the police?" he demanded, giving her a shake.

Sherlock was there, probably John too and she'd had about enough of the bastard holding her arm. She struck him in the nose with the palm of her free hand. He cried out, but he didn't drop the gun as she hoped. Instead he pulled back and struck her hard enough to knock her to the floor.

"Bitch," Tom yelled. "I'll kill you for that!"

The side of her head, near her left eye felt like it had been set ablaze, but she pushed the pain aside as he glanced under the bed. Bonnie's eyes were wide and the girl's hands were clamped over her mouth as if she were afraid of accidentally screaming. She heard a gun cock and knew it was Tom.

In the next moment the door burst open and she heard the sound of a gun being fired. For a moment she thought she might've been shot, but she heard Tom yell and she rolled over in time to watch John punch the man, knocking him out.

John turned his attention to her, but she shook her head, sitting up and crawling over to the bed. She reached her hand under and Bonnie took it, crawling out.

"You're bleeding," Bonnie said.

"This?" Rose asked, indicating the gash she knew was there, but being careful not to touch it, least she wince in front of the already frightened child. "'S nothing. This is my friend, John. He's going to take you to see your dad, yeah?"

John gave the girl a smile, but he turned his attention to Rose, worried over the wound above her eye.

"You should let me look at that I'm-"

"A doctor," she grinned. "I know. 'S fine."

"You could have a concussion."

"Take care of her, yeah?"

John sighed, offering the girl his hand. She took it, seeming to accept that he was okay because Rose said he was.

"If you get dizzy let me know."

"I will," a deep voice said from the doorway.

She put her hand on the bed, standing up, a grin already forming. He was beside her in the next moment, taking her arm and began leading her out of the room, but she stopped him next to Tom's unconscious body and bent down, picking up her gun and sliding it into the holster under her coat then rummaged around in his pockets and found her phone. She slid her mobile into her pocket and then took Sherlock's arm following him out of the room. He didn't say anything as he led her down the hall and into a small bath and it made her wonder. Was he upset with her? She wasn't sure where she was in his time stream, but after turning on the light he cupped her cheeks and none of that mattered as she gazed into his eyes.

She watched his eyes examine the gash and then he caught her gaze for a brief moment before turning around and searching for a cloth. It was enough for her to see the concern in his eyes. He wasn't angry with her, he was worried over her. She grinned as he ran the tap, dabbing the cloth in the water.

Sherlock tried to shove the emotions she elicited back into the room, but the moment he saw the gash above her eye all he wanted to do was put another bullet in the bloke who hurt her. He remained quiet after that, sorting through the feelings that nearly overwhelmed him when he first stepped into that room. He wasn't used to any of them, not in this way. It was strange and more than frightening, but his concern for her was stronger than all of that and that was the emotion that held him at the moment.

He tilted her head up by cupping her cheek with one hand and began dabbing at the wound. She winced at first and he paused, feeling a strange compulsion to not want to cause her further pain. He caught her gaze briefly and she grinned, he turned his eyes back to her wound and continued his progress.

"I believe I ought to start carrying a first aid kit," he said, wanting to say something, but unsure, for the first time, what he should say.

She gave a light laugh and he felt himself smiling in response, but he only allowed it for a moment, still unsure how he felt about her and the implications of who she was.

"Jeopardy friendly, that's me," she teased.

He was quiet for a moment. Mulling over her words.

"Is it always like this?" he asked.

"Like what?"

Rose watched him carefully. She could still hear the concern in his voice, but she could tell he was confused and, if she was right, which she usually was when it came to him, he also seemed a bit afraid. He sat the cloth down and then turned back, catching her gaze.

"Life and death," he elaborated.

She grinned, stepping closer to him, grabbing his lapels and catching his gaze.

"It wouldn't be much fun otherwise, yeah?" she teased.

Sherlock watched her closely, gazing into her eyes that, at first, had reminded him of someone he lost, but now made him feel as if he weren't alone. It was a very strange feeling. She was closer to him than she'd ever been and before he knew what he was doing his hands wrapped themselves around her waist as if afraid she might pull away.

"No, I suppose not," he replied, his voice coming out low.

She grinned in a way he'd never seen before. His eyes widened as the control he prided himself on slipped. He felt his pulse speed up. How was she able to do that? Produce one grin that made his control slip that much? He didn't even realize he was smiling for a good half a minute, which was quite a long time to him.

At that moment the sound of Mycroft clearing his throat interrupted them. Sherlock rolled his eyes. The last thing he wanted was for his brother to find out about her. He knew it would happen eventually, since she told him Mycroft had asked about her ability to travel in time, but he was hoping to put it off as long as possible.

Mycroft had stood in the doorway long enough to observe the way his brother held the woman and gazed at her. He wasn't sure if it was, he nearly shuddered, _love, _but it was something. When it looked as if they might actually kiss, something he didn't at all want to be present for he decided to announce his presence.

The woman glanced at him, pulling back and he watched his brother grudgingly allow it. He gave her a tight smile about to introduce himself when she gave him a bright smile…one that actually seemed genuine.

"Mike," she exclaimed, as if she were actually happy to see him and, in fact, knew him.

Before he could question her she not only stepped over to him, but actually invaded his space and…Why the hell was she hugging him? He had no idea what to do. His mind actually halting for the first time in his life. That only lasted for a moment, but by the time he regained his ability to think she stepped back, still smiling.

At first Sherlock wasn't entirely sure what Rose was doing, but then she did something that no one ever did, well, no one outside their mother. She actually hugged his brother and not as a lark. He couldn't help laughing at the look on his brother's face which was akin to someone being mauled by a large animal. For the first time Mycroft looked as if he didn't know what to do.

Then she released his brother and Sherlock couldn't help another chuckle from escaping as Mycroft smoothed his ruffled feathers. His brother shot him a disdainful glare.

"It seems my dear brother has told you about me," Mycroft said, trying to regain his composure. "But I'm afraid you've found me at a disadvantage."

_Bullocks! _Mycroft didn't know her. She couldn't help almost laughing as she wondered what he must be thinking about her. Probably thought she was a nutter. Well, that would change.

"I'm Rose," she said. "Rose-"

"Holmes," Mycroft interrupted, wanting to regain the upper hand.

He was rewarded by the slight widening of her eyes. Very slight and only lasting a moment. She was good. Careful. Sherlock crossed the room to stand beside her, but he didn't even give his little brother a glance, focusing his attention on her.

"Sounds like you're not as disadvantaged as you claim," she replied, grinning to let him know that although he surprised her he hadn't thrown her.

"No ring then," Mycroft noted, glancing at her hand. "Must be a very progressive marriage."

Sherlock glanced at her hand, not having noticed her lack of ring and chastising himself for allowing his brother to be the first to notice this new information.

"Right," Rose replied, remembering that she hadn't retrieved it yet and reaching down her shirt front, making both Sherlock and Mike's eyes widen while the elder Holmes made a startled choking noise, which made her laugh as she pulled the ring out and slipped it back on her finger. "Couldn't have anything happen to it."

"Yes. Well. A bit of modesty-" Mycroft began, but stopped as his eyes actually fell on the ring. Their grandmother's wedding ring.

Sherlock noted the way his brother eyed the ring. He knew Mycroft was drawing multiple conclusions and would, most likely, want answers, answers he wanted to find first.

"If you don't mind, Mycroft," Sherlock said, putting his arm around Rose's shoulder and drawing her closer…for appearance of course. His brother thought they were married after all. Well, they were, but they weren't yet. He dropped that train of thought before it threatened to swallow him. "Rose has been through enough for one evening."

"Quite right," Mycroft replied. He could always question her later. "Take my car. I'll have the driver return after he drops you. Oh, and don't forget John."

Sherlock nodded, leading Rose away from his brother and out of the cottage and as he did so one of her arms wove around his waist. He glanced at her, but she appeared to be looking around.

"John," she called and he glanced over to where she was looking.

His friend caught sight of them and walked over. He noted the confused look John wore as he took in the way they were walking together, but he chose to ignore that. He couldn't drop the act in case his brother was still watching.

"You should probably wait until we're back at Baker Street before you…go anywhere," he said.

"'S what I was thinking too," she replied.

When they reached the car he opened the door for her before climbing in beside her, leaving John to ride in the front, but he caught his friend's smirk before he closed the door, making him roll his eyes.

"Bonnie will be all right, yeah?" Rose asked the moment he closed the door.

"Bonnie?" he inquired, not entirely sure who she was referring to.

"The little girl," she prompted.

Of course she was asking about the little girl. Rose seemed to worry over everyone else. Everything about the woman radiated sentiment, something he had never been entirely comfortable with.

"Mycroft will return her to her parents. I'm sure there will be some residual psychological effects, but according to John therapy does wonders," he replied.

For some reason this made her chuckle and he glanced at her wondering why she was laughing.

Rose caught the change. This was him before she met him, he was young, well, technically at the moment they were probably nearly the same age, but he was young to her. He knew her, but not that well. He was still trying to understand her, understand who she was.

"That's why you have such trouble with names," she said, reaching up with her hand and brushing at the front of his hair. The light brush of her fingers across his forehead nearly immobilizing him. She grinned, her hand coming back with a small leaf held in her fingers. She dropped it on the floor of the car and then caught his gaze, grin still in place. "Most brilliant man in the universe. Head's too full of stuff."

He was unable to stop himself from smiling at her comment and when she laid her head in the crook of his shoulder a moment later his arm wrapped around her shoulders, almost as if it had a mind of its own. She was tired. Probably emotionally drained from the day, although he doubted she'd admit that, well, maybe to him.

"It'll be at least an hour before we arrive at Baker Street," he said. "You should rest."

"Mm, not tired," she mumbled, already close to sleep and he almost chuckled, but stopped himself at the last minute.

How was she able to do that to him? He glanced at her, but her eyes were closed.

"Mmm," he hummed instead, in that way he did with John when his friend tried to argue, but he knew he was correct in his deduction.

"Mm, not," she mumbled quietly as if she knew exactly what he was thinking, drawing another glance from him.

Her cheek shifted on his shoulder a moment as she drew closer to him, her arm winding around his waist and under his coat. He froze. His eyes widening for a moment. Her hand was on his waist, on his shirt, their skin wasn't actually touching, but it still elicited a feeling of intimacy. He glanced at her again, but she was sleeping. After a moment he relaxed, well, as much as he could given the situation.

* * *

><p>The car stopped first at John and Mary's flat to drop his friend off. John climbed out of the driver seat, but Sherlock didn't want to wake Rose so he put the window down. John glanced at him and then smirked.<p>

"Shut up, John," he snapped, knowing exactly why his friend was smirking.

"I didn't say anything," John protested.

"You didn't have to."

Now a grin. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Right. Well, I suppose I ought to leave you two alone."

Sherlock sighed at his friend's mirth.

"You'll be over tomorrow?" he asked, choosing to ignore it.

John quirked his brow the smile becoming a smirk again.

"You sure you'll be up for it?"

"Why wouldn't I be…" he trailed off as his friend glanced at Rose, making him glance at her and as if on cue she shifted, her hand tightening on his waist, making his eyes widen again. He heard his friend chuckle and he turned his gaze on John, glaring. "Shut up," he snapped, putting the window up before John could continue his amused, completely improper, deductions.

"Idiot," he spat as he car pulled out.

"Mm," Rose mumbled, drawing his attention. "What'd Sally do now?"

Sally…Donovan. He almost grinned, but stopped himself, John's amusement still fresh in his mind.

"It was John," he replied, not even sure why he was replying, since he was fairly sure she was still sleeping.

Wait. He glanced at her. Talking in her sleep?

"'S not nice," she mumbled, but she was smiling slightly as if she knew he didn't really mean it.

With her subconscious in control if he were careful he might be able to get the answers he sought. Who was she, not her name or who she was to him, but who was she before? Where did she come from? Where did that device come from? How was it able to make her travel in time? When did they meet? Why was she so interwoven into his life? Why _his_? Was someone behind it? And those were just the immediate questions.

"Rose?" he asked, whispering as he bent his head close.

"Mm," she replied.

"Do you remember how we met?"

She smiled in her sleep and it made him want to respond in kind, but he held his smile back. He was trying to get answers. Sentiment would only complicate matters.

"You saved me." She snuggled closer, but he ignored that. "You always save me."

"Saved you from whom?"

Her brows drew together, her hand on his waist fisting his shirt.

"I…can't," she replied, her voice coming out almost in a gasp and he could hear the fear.

It was the first time he heard fear in her voice and it gave him pause. Even when she was dying she hadn't betrayed any hint of fear. His hand instinctively tightened on her shoulder. He didn't like hearing that emotion in her voice and he was confused by the desire to protect her it elicited in him.

"Where are your parents?" he asked, grabbing the first question that came to mind in his desire to get as far from both of those emotions as possible.

Her brow was still creased, but her hand relaxed on his shirt.

"Gone," she replied, not with fear this time, but the heavy weight of loss.

That desire to protect her was still present. _Bloody hell! _Before he could try another question the car stopped. He glanced out the window. Baker Street. Brilliant. He sighed.

"Rose," he said, a bit louder. She shifted, but didn't wake. He gave her shoulder a slight shake. "Rose." A bit louder this time.

She opened her eyes, focusing them on his first and her face lit with a sleepy smile that he allowed himself to return, briefly.

"We've arrived," he continued.

She glanced out the window. Blinking for a moment as the sleepiness dissipated.

"Home then," she said.

So they still lived at Baker Street, even after they were married and had a…he still wasn't ready to allow that thought. He opened the door and helped her out.

She took his arm as they walked to the door and waited while he unlocked it. It took her a minute to remember where she was and when she was. That she was with him, but past him. She climbed the stairs and followed him into their flat, well, she glanced around, _his _flat at the moment. At that moment the lights came on.

"Tea?" he asked, drawing her gaze and she couldn't help grinning.

"I should probably go," she said and noted the bit of unhappiness that settled over him.

"You have a time travel device-"

"Vortex Manipulator," she corrected.

"Vortex Manipulator," he tested out the word.

"I suppose a cuppa wouldn't hurt," she said as she removed her coat, having already decided to stay a few minutes because of the look he wore.

A slight smile ghosted over his lips and she grinned, following him into the kitchen and watched him fill the kettle.

"Might I ask where you acquired the…Vortex Manipulator?" he inquired.

She never could lie to him, but she had to be careful. She knew he was fishing for information, information she'd gladly give him, but she knew if she told him too much too soon she might change things and she couldn't chance that.

"I helped develop it," she explained, earning a surprised glance from him as he put the kettle on. She gave him a teasing grin. "Why's that surprising?"

He knew she was clever, but helping to develop a time travel device. He hadn't expected that, but he didn't believe she was lying.

"I wasn't expecting that," he replied, leaning back against the counter and folding his arms as he gazed at her.

"It's one of the things I'm experienced in."

He raised his brow.

"Time travel?"

"Yep," she replied, popping the 'p' in a way he found charming and then immediately banished that feeling.

"Who else worked on it?"

"My team at the…company I used to work for."

"But you don't work for them any longer?"

"No, we were…separated."

"Separated?"

"I can't get into that."

"Why?"

"Future knowledge. It can be dangerous. It can change things." She caught the confusion in his eyes. "To you this, now, is present, but to me it's the past. Knowing something you shouldn't know yet could change things."

"Then it is possible to change the past," he replied.

Something in the way he said that worried her. Their lives had always been intertwined. On one hand she had her life with him and Ally, but on the other hand they had their jumbled up life. The bit with her future being his past. Would he actually try to change that? But she knew the answer. If he thought her life was in danger he wouldn't hesitate. He would try to save her and damn the consequences. She had to put a stop to that.

Rose surprised him by stepping into his space and taking his hands. She caught his gaze.

"The past isn't a straight line. It twists and turns and changing something, no matter how much you want to, no matter how right you think it is can have horrible consequences." He still seemed disbelieving so she continued. "When I was little I lost my dad. He was hit by a car and died. After I started traveling in time I went back to see him because my mum told me the story of how he died alone and I didn't want him to die alone. I wanted to be there for him, only, when I saw the car I couldn't let it happen so I…" she sighed and he could see the pain in her deep hazel eyes. He felt a compulsion to hold her…comfort her, but he held his control, focusing on her words. "I saved him and I thought I was doing something right. Saving someone. I knew how dangerous it was to change things, but he was just one person so I didn't see the harm, but by saving him I almost killed everyone, him included." She paused, tears in the corner of her eyes and at that moment his control slipped as he pulled her close and held her, confused by his own actions, but unable to stop himself. She continued her story after a moment, cheek pressed against his chest. "In the end I lost him. The only way to save everyone was for him to be hit by the car because that was what my friend called a _fixed point_. Something that was meant to happen."

She sighed and a moment later reached up and he knew she was wiping the tears away.

"So, even with time travel you can't save anyone?" he resigned.

She pulled back, catching his gaze.

"I didn't say that, but it's complicated. I saved my friend, Jack once and there was a price, there always is, but no one else died, well, no one that didn't deserve it, but I think that either had to do with the way I did it or the fact that he wasn't in his proper time."

"Your friend was a time traveler too," he deduced.

"Yep."

At that moment the kettle boiled and she stepped back. He turned around and set to work making their tea as he mulled over her words. He watched her die, but it happened in the past, not in her proper time. Did that mean he could save her? Possibly, but he'd have to work out a way that would also keep him and John alive because if he died he wouldn't be there to save her. The memory of her fear solidifying his resolve.

She stayed long enough to finish her tea, but after that she retrieved her coat. He followed her feeling a weight already beginning to settle that the loss of her presence would bring. His rational mind tried to insist that he hardly knew her, having only met her three times, but to him he'd known her for months.

She punched in a sequence of numbers that he now knew would take her home, back to him. He felt a slight twinge of jealousy and immediately tried to work out where the hell that came from and why he felt jealous of himself, which he was sure John would have a lengthy conversation over. He shoved that aside as she caught his gaze, grinning.

He took a step toward her, but stopped. He stuffed his hands into his pockets as they shifted, lifting slightly, involuntarily, in his desire to…what? Hug her, touch her one last time before she was gone. He would see her again, he knew that and that's what he told himself to hold onto his control.

"When will I see you again?" he asked, mirroring the same question he asked last time.

"I'll text you," she replied and in the next moment she pushed the button, vanishing from his sight with that electrical zapping sound.

He stepped into the space she just vacated and stood there a moment. Her scent lingering around him. He knew he was being sentimental, but there wasn't anyone around to see that. He closed his eyes, picturing her. There was a chance he could save her and there was still time. She died in his past, but her body vanished, had vanished in the same manner she did when she traveled in time. Somehow he would find a way.

* * *

><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**


	11. Mycroft

It had been no less than three days. THREE DAYS. During which Mycroft waited for Rose to show herself outside of Baker Street, but he hadn't seen so much as a whisper of blonde hair when he looked at the camera feed, which, to be honest, was more often than he usually spent on the project that was his brother. There were people though, his people, always watching and they remained silent, something that told him she hadn't been seen by any of them.

Sherlock had come and gone nine times. Two on his own and seven with John, telling him his brother was working a case. Two packages arrived, both for Mrs. Hudson. One was a supply of what she referred to as _herbal soothers_ and the other was a small collectable statuette she ordered from the telly.

Mary arrived once to drive John home. Other than that, nothing. Sherlock must be trying to keep Rose from him. No matter. He had his own ways in which to learn information and if it came down to it he could stop by, unannounced of course. Throwing his brother off was something he took particular pleasure in.

He picked up his phone, loathing the call he was about to place. He sighed in irritation as he hit the talk button and waited through three rings before the other end was picked up.

"Mike?" his mother asked, sounding a bit out of breath and for a moment concern seized him as he recalled her age, the high blood pressure medication she was taking, and the fact that her cholesterol count had been a bit high after her last physical.

"Are you all right, mother?" he asked, the words coming out before he knew what he was saying.

"I'm fine, Mike. Why?"

"You sound out of breath. Should I call someone? Are you experienceing any pain?"

She laughed.

"I'm fine. Really. Your father was just-"

"Yes. Right," he cut in, knowing where that train of thought led and wanting to derail it before he learned exactly what his parents had been doing on their own. The concern vanishing as quickly as smoke in the wind. "I phoned about Sherlock."

"Sherlock?" she asked, the concern evident in her voice, making him roll his eyes. "Has something happened? Is he all right? Your father and I can catch the next train. He isn't in hospital again is he?"

She always did worry over his brother.

"No, mother, he's fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I assure you." He paused for a moment while she collected herself. "I wondered what you knew about his wife?"

He hadn't gone to his parents before because he avoided conversing with them and he knew his mother would draw out this sort of conversation, wanting to launch into all the little details, details he didn't need. A name, Rose's maiden name, that's all he needed.

There was a pause as he was greeted by silence for a moment.

"Wife?" she asked and he could tell from her tone that she knew nothing about this wife.

After seeing the ring on Rose's finger he assumed his mother would know. Surely she wouldn't have simply handed over the ring without an explanation.

"Yes."

A bit of a pause.

"Wife?"

He rolled his eyes at her repetition.

"Yes, mother, wife. I assumed you knew about her."

"Are you sure?"

"She was wearing the ring," he revealed, as if that should silence her doubts.

"Ring? What ring?"

He sighed.

"Grandmother's wedding ring."

Another pause and then…she laughed. His brow drew together. Why was she laughing?

"What's so amusing?" he inquired a bit of irritation creeping into his voice.

"I think he's having fun with you, Mike."

"Sorry?"

"He borrowed grandmother's ring a few months back."

"And you allowed him to?" he inquired, feeling put out that his brother had gotten one up on him. "You know his history, mother. I can't believe you-"

"Mike," she said, her tone halting his tirade. "He's come a long way since then and, in his defense, he was true to his word. Returned it about a week later without so much as a nick."

"A week later?" he asked, but Rose had been wearing it three days ago.

A copy? Perhaps. It made sense, but at the same time it didn't. Why would Sherlock go to the trouble of creating a copy? Not merely for Mycroft's benefit. And he was sure John actually believed Rose was Sherlock's wife. Was it a ruse? But why?

He thought back to the moment he saw them together. They appeared to genuinely care about each other. Were they in fact married? There was too little information for him to make a proper deduction. Without her maiden name he couldn't dig into her past. The only people who appeared to know her were Sherlock and John, but…wait. Rose had gone into Baker Street, but she hadn't come out, which meant she must still be there. Perhaps it was time he paid Sherlock a little visit.

* * *

><p>It wasn't until the next afternoon that Mycroft arrived at Baker Street, choosing to wait until Sherlock left so as to question Rose without his brother's presence. He rang the bell and waited impatiently until Mrs. Hudson answered.<p>

"Mycroft," she greeted in that motherly tone that always grated on his nerves. "I'm afraid Sherlock's out."

"That's quite all right, Mrs. Hudson," he replied, stepping inside. "I can wait until his return."

"I'm afraid I'm not sure when he'll be back," she said, closing the door, but looking as if she wasn't entirely happy that he insisted on staying.

He ignored that as he walked over to the stairs and started up. Sherlock must have warned Mrs. Hudson to keep him away from Rose, well, he certainly wasn't going to let an aged woman keep him from learning about her.

"I'm sure I can entertain myself until he returns." He heard her follow him up the stairs. "In the meantime you can make a pot of tea."

"I'm not his-"

"Housekeeper," he finished as he reached the door. "Yes, I recall."

He opened the door and stepped inside, pausing at the threshold as his eyes scanned the room. Empty. His eyes traveled to the kitchen, but he couldn't hear any movement. Was she asleep? It was afternoon.

"Are you going to stand in the doorway?" Mrs. Hudson asked. He stepped into the room and allowed her to pass him. "Your mother has a lot to answer for," she continued as she walked into the kitchen.

"Yes. I have a file," he replied, offhandedly as he stepped around the room.

He hadn't been by in the last few months, but it seemed the same. No trace of a woman's touch. No articles of clothing, nothing at all that would point to her presence. He found his way into the kitchen, pausing for a moment as his eyes trained on Sherlock's bedroom door at the end of the hall.

"How has my brother been lately?" he continued.

"Fine. Well, fine for him. You know how he is," she replied offhandedly as she pulled down the tray and began putting everything together.

"Nothing…out of the ordinary?" he pressed.

Mrs. Hudson paused, turning to him and he could see that, yes, there was something.

"Well, now that you mention it he has been a bit…different."

He raised his brow.

"Different? In what way?"

"Lately he hasn't been yelling as much, you know how he can do that sometimes." She glanced at him and he hummed his understanding. "And he hasn't fired his gun at the wall once, even when there's a lull in cases, hasn't asked about his cigarettes either. Instead, I usually find him lost in thought, you know like he gets sometimes."

Mycroft mulled that over while she turned back to putting the tea in order.

"So, he seems calmer?" he inquired, glancing at the closed bedroom door again.

"Yes, I suppose that would be the way to put it."

She filled the pot with hot water from the kettle and then picked up the tray. He, reluctantly, followed her into the other room, taking a seat in his brother's chair. He waited while she made him a cup.

"He's asked me the strangest things too. Strange for Sherlock that is," she revealed, handing his tea over.

He glanced at her, raising his brow.

"Do tell," he said and then took a drink while she sat in the chair across from him.

"He asked what I meant when I told him that marriage changes people."

He nearly spit the tea out as he took a drink. He coughed for a moment before he regained control of himself.

"Sorry?" he inquired, eyeing her.

"It was something I said when John and Mary were getting married."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him that it creates a bond between two people, connecting them." He scoffed at the idea. "It's a gesture of love. A way for them to say that they couldn't think of being with anyone else."

"If I recall, your husband was in fact a notorious cheat, was he not?" Mycroft asked.

"Mycroft Holmes," she shouted, jumping to her feet. "If you're going to-"

"My apologies, Mrs. Hudson," he said, realizing she was about to storm out of the room and possibly demand that he leave. "That was uncalled for."

"I'll say," she replied, but seemed to settle, resuming her seat.

"This was before the wedding then," he deduced.

"No, it was after John and Mary's wedding."

"I'm referring to Sherlock and Rose's wedding, of course."

She stared at him, completely dumbfounded.

"I'm sorry?"

He gazed at her a moment. She had no idea what he was talking about, but she must. Rose was staying there.

"Did my brother fail to mention that he and Rose were married?"

"Sherlock married?" she laughed. Why was she laughing? "You must be joking."

"You must have noticed the ring," he replied, then again she was thick, like all the other goldfish.

"What are you talking about?"

"The one Rose wears."

"Rose? Rose who?"

He rolled his eyes.

"The woman who's been living here."

She shook her head laughing.

"There's no woman living here with Sherlock."

"Fine then, staying here."

"There's no one else staying here. I'm not sure where you're getting your information, Mycroft Holmes, but someone's been having fun with you."

That was it. He'd had about enough of this little game, whatever it was. He sat his tea down and stood up, striding through the room, the kitchen, and down the hall. He opened the door to Sherlock's room with a protesting Mrs. Hudson following him. It was empty. He glanced around, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that pointed to another presence.

"I told you there's no one else here."

John's old room. He walked to the stairs and hurried up, reaching the door and opening it. Another empty room and this one obviously devoid of an inhabitant. She was there. She had to be there. He'd gone through the camera feed. There were people watching the flat. She hadn't left. He was sure of that. Where the hell was she?

* * *

><p>Sherlock arrived home about an hour later, having gone to Lestrade's office to fill out a report that he'd been putting off. He opened the door to find Mycroft sitting in his chair. Brilliant. He'd been expecting this, was actually surprised that it took his brother four days to show up.<p>

"Mycroft," he greeted, removing his coat and scarf to hang them by the door.

"Sherlock," his brother replied, a slight grin slipping into place, making him roll his eyes.

He ignored the tea Mrs. Hudson must have provided and sat down in John's chair, eyeing Mycroft. He wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. Since the moment Rose left he'd been waiting on her text knowing it could come any second, although it would most likely be a month or more before he saw her again.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" he inquired lacing his words with sarcasm.

"I wanted to see how you were getting on. I know how marriage can change people," Mycroft replied before taking a drink of his tea.

He'd been talking to Mrs. Hudson, which meant he knew not only that Rose wasn't there, but that his landlady hadn't seen her and, in fact, didn't have any idea who she was.

"As you can see, brother mine, nothing's changed."

Mycroft raised his brow at Sherlock's warning. His brother was telling him to stay out of this, but he could hardly do that. There was something going on and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

"Yes, I can see," Mycroft replied with a slight smile.

Sherlock eyed his brother. Mycroft had gone through his flat. His brother knew Rose wasn't merely out, but that there was no trace of her. He knew Mycroft watched his flat, probably had people on his flat, which meant his brother hadn't seen her leave, no one would've seen her leave.

"If that's all you came for-" Sherlock began, sitting up.

"Who is she?" Mycroft inquired, dropping the charade.

"I thought you already knew that."

"The wife. Yes," his brother smirked. "Trouble is there's no evidence of that. No marriage certificate. No evidence of a ceremony. The only people who seem to know her are you and John."

"You've met her."

"Met her, yes, but I don't know her. You haven't even introduced her to our parents."

Sherlock's eyes snapped to Mycroft's. The elder Holmes smirked.

"You phoned mother?"

"Rose did have the ring. I assumed you told mother why you wanted it."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed. His brother knew, well, he didn't know exactly, but he had suspicions.

"I'm not sure why you made a copy," Mycroft continued. Sherlock relaxed. His brother thought it was a copy. Of course Mycroft thought it was a copy. "But I will find out what sort of trouble you're in, although it would be a lot easier if you'd simply tell me."

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I'm not in trouble, Mycroft."

"Of course you are. Wherever there's a woman there's trouble, especially for you."

Sherlock stood up then, not wanting to keep on with this conversation. His brother was fishing and he wasn't about to let Mycroft catch anything. He walked over and picked up his violin. It was the quickest way to get his brother to leave.

Mycroft could see that Sherlock wasn't going to reveal any more information. His brother was avoiding. He sat his tea down and stood up, but paused a moment as Sherlock began to play. The piece was new. Something his brother composed or was composing. He listened a moment, hearing in the piece everything he needed to know about his brother's state. He glanced at Sherlock's back before turning and walking out the door.

* * *

><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**If you have time reviews are always welcome. :)**


	12. Wrong Place Wrong Time Pt1

Sherlock made their morning coffee. Something he knew Rose needed after the night they had. Ally was down with a cold, though she would likely feel better this morning, but Rose spent the night worrying over her and no amount of logic on his part could stop his wife's instance on mothering their daughter, but then that's who Rose was. She took care of people. She made them better, it's what she'd done for him. He couldn't help smiling.

He knew who he'd be without her. The man he'd been before. The man who was alone. Oh, he had John and Mary, but it wasn't the same. He used to pretend that he didn't need anyone, that he was all right on his own, but he wasn't. There were still times that he didn't believe he deserved her, but she would banish those thoughts with a word or a touch. That was Rose.

She stepped into the kitchen from the hall, drawing his attention. He turned around with a smile. He took in her clothes. Red tank top, jeans, trainers, hair clipped up in the front and hanging loose in the back. She was beautiful, but it was her tank top that gave him pause. New, but he'd seen it before. He would never forget the day he saw her in it.

"Is that my cuppa?" she asked, walking toward him.

He glanced down, having forgotten he was holding in, losing himself in the memory for a moment.

"Yep," he replied, popping the 'p' in a way that always earned him a smile.

She took the cup and he turned around to grab his own.

"John said she should feel better this morning."

"I told you she would, luv" he replied, unable to resist touching the tip of her nose because she was so close and because it always made her nose wrinkle in a way he found adorable.

"You could've gone to bed."

"I appear to have lost the ability to sleep on my own," he said, giving her a smile as he wove a hand around her waist to pull her closer.

"I could get you one of those big pillows," she teased, gazing into his eyes.

At that moment they were interrupted by the sound of feet hurrying down the stairs and then Ally raced into the room. He released his hold on Rose and leaned back against the counter while she walked over to their daughter, feeling the girl's forehead and then her cheeks.

"Feel better?" she asked.

"Much," Ally replied, practically hopping in place, making her long dark curls bounce. He grinned. "There's cereal, yeah?"

"Yep," Rose replied.

"Brilliant!"

Alley hopped up in the chair…literally. Rose watched her with a grin. She had the same energy as her dad. Rose pulled down a bowl and set to work on the cereal. She watched Sherlock head for the living room.

"Oi," she called. He paused, mid-step and turned around. "Where do you think you're going?"

She raised her brow. He immediately went over everything that had transpired in the last twenty four hours because she had _that _look. The _you forgot something important _look.

"Um…chair?" he asked, knowing better than to state anything while she was looking at him like that.

"Mary's party."

"That's not for hours."

She rolled her eyes, reinforcing his theory that he was missing something.

"Yes, but I have that _thing _to do first."

"Thing?" He tried to recall what _thing _she could be referring to and then he remembered. "Mary's present."

At that Ally perked up.

"Are you going shopping? Can I come? I want to pick something out too and a dress. Can I get a dress for the party?"

He realized his mistake too late.

"Of course," Sherlock said, stepping back into the room. "How about after breakfast you get dressed and I'll take you down to the shops?"

"What about mum?"

"Mum has some errands to run before she does her shopping. You don't want to waste time with all that boring nonsense, do you?" he inquired, glancing at Rose and receiving a grin.

"What kind of errands?" Ally asked, glancing at Rose.

"The bank, the insurance office," she began listing all the places their daughter hated to go.

"I'd rather go with dad," the girl interrupted.

Rose shrugged her shoulders.

"Suit yourself."

Sherlock crossed the room and walked down the hall a ways with Rose, making sure they were out of Ally's earshot.

"You forgot," she accused.

"Misplaced the information," he replied.

She grinned.

"Nice save though."

He knew what she was planning and he never liked her using that device because every time she did he was one step closer to losing her. He'd been working on a plan for the past seven years. All the pieces weren't in place yet, but he was close.

He knew Mary would be happy with whatever Rose bought her, but she mentioned an item of jewelry that her mother bought her when she was young, something she always thought she would give to her daughter, but she left it behind with everything else from her past. Rose wanted to buy her one, but found that they stopped making them twenty years ago, which didn't stop her.

"Promise me you'll be careful," he said, catching her gaze.

"I'm always careful and if anything happens you're always there," she replied, giving him a grin.

He returned her smile forcing the memory of her death aside as he always did when they were together because he couldn't tell her. He almost did, once, but she stopped him. By then the thought of losing anyone else wasn't as frightening as the prospect of losing her, but then by saving her he would still lose her, which was what gave him the idea for the plan.

He pulled her in for a kiss, just one, just in case because time wasn't a straight line and if there's one thing she taught him, it was that anything was possible when it came to _his impossible girl_.

* * *

><p>Rose pulled on a jean jacket, similar to the one she used to own. Then she grabbed the gun and slid it into her back waistband. She still wasn't entirely thrilled with carrying a weapon, but events, ones she didn't like to think about, taught her that sometimes they were necessary. Murderers and serial killers were far more dangerous than aliens.<p>

She slid back the sleeve of her jacket and punched in the destination and date. Then she hit the button. The familiar sensation passed over her and a moment later she found herself standing in…a closet. Brilliant.

She opened the door and stepped out. The first thing she noticed was the body, but before she had time to react the door burst open and four officers entered with weapons drawn.

"Oh, bollocks!"

* * *

><p>Sherlock walked through the door followed by John. He began removing his coat, but at that moment his phone chimed announcing a text. He pulled it out, hoping as he always did whenever he received a text that it was her. He was rewarded by an address and her name. He grinned.<p>

"Come on, John," he said, shrugging back into his coat.

"We just got here," John protested.

"And now we're leaving," he replied, opening the door.

He heard his friend sigh, but ignored it as he hurried down the stairs. It'd only been two weeks since he saw her last, but it felt like a lot longer, probably because he lived on the edge of hope every time he received a text, but none of them had been from her. He wasn't sure what sort of danger she was in this time, but none of that mattered.

He hailed the first cab and hurried John inside then climbed in closing the door. He gave the cabbie the address and turned his attention out the window while he waited.

John watched Sherlock for a minute. At first he thought it was another case, even though they just wrapped one up. Sherlock wasn't beyond taking them back to back, hating that lull between cases, although his friend had been less like that lately.

"Is it her?" John asked.

"Yes," Sherlock replied without looking at him, but he could hear the hope in his friend's voice.

He smiled. Good. She was good for him, although he did wish their relationship was a bit more normal, but then with Sherlock nothing was ever normal. He doubted his friend would be happy with a normal relationship. Probably find it boring.

* * *

><p>"Drop your weapon," one of the officers insisted.<p>

She rolled her eyes as she dropped her phone.

"It's just my mobile, not a weapon."

Instead of replying the officer ordered the others to watch her while he walked over and began frisking her. He, of course, found her gun. At that moment a man she recognized entered the room.

"Greg," she sighed in relief.

He glanced at her and she could tell that he didn't have any idea who she was. Brilliant. The officer who frisked her, pulled out a pair of cuffs.

"I didn't do anything," she protested.

"Um…" Greg turned his attention to the officer. "What do we have?"

"When we entered the residence she was standing over the body, sir," the bloke answered.

"I was _not_ standing over the body," Rose protested. "I was standing here and I'm clearly over a meter away from the body."

"She had a weapon," the officer replied, handing Greg the gun.

"And that woman," she said, nodding toward the body. "Was clearly stabbed. I can see three knife wounds from here." Greg glanced from the body to her. "Did I have a knife? No. There isn't one drop of blood on my clothes. Look," she glanced down at her trainers. "White shoes, no blood. Mind telling me how that's possible if I killed her?"

"You could have wore something over your clothes," the officer replied, clearly unhappy that she able to shoot so many holes in his assumption.

"Okay. Where is it?"

"You could have disposed of it."

"Blimey, I must be an idiot if I took the time to dispose of the evidence and then returned to the scene of the crime," she replied sarcastically.

"Then what were you doing here?" Greg asked.

I was aiming for a shopping mall about nine years in the past and my Vortex Manipulator got the date and address mixed up. Yeah, probably not the best idea.

"Wrong place wrong time," she tried.

"Lestrade," Sherlock called, his voice carrying through the flat and over the drone of other officers.

Rose grinned as she watched him stride through the room with John following. Greg's head snapped around, eyes training on the detective.

"Sherlock? What're you doing here?" Lestrade asked.

"Mind telling me what you think you're doing?" Sherlock snapped.

"Rose?" John inquired.

"Wait," Greg said. "Do you two know her?"

"Of course we do. She's Sherlock's wife."

_Bloody hell. _Rose could see John realize his mistake, but it was already out. Sherlock seemed unfazed, but Greg looked as if his eyes might actually pop out of his head. Rose couldn't help laughing.

"Wife?" Greg asked, as if he'd never heard the word before.

"Yes, wife," Sherlock snapped. "Now, are you going to tell me exactly what you think you're charging her with because I know it can't be that woman's murder since she was clearly stabbed three times by a man and Rose is clearly not a man nor does she have one drop of blood on her person."

She couldn't help grinning, as she always did when he was being brilliant. He was holding his smile back, but she caught the softening of his eyes when his gaze briefly met hers.

"A man?" the officer inquired, as if he didn't believe the detective.

"Since you've clearly failed to notice the scent of cheap cologne might I point out the half smoked cigar in the ashtray, men's dress jacket on the back of the sofa, and two wine glasses on the coffee table one with traces of lipstick matching the shade on the deceased and the other without," Sherlock impatiently explained, pointing out everything during his explanation.

"That doesn't mean-"

"All right," Greg interrupted. "Un-cuff her."

"What?" the officer asked, making no move to follow through.

"You heard me," the inspector growled.

The officer made no further argument as he un-cuffed her hands and then walked away.

"Thank you," she said, giving Greg a smile.

"I'd still like to know what you were doing here, for the record."

"Perhaps, Greg," Sherlock said, catching the inspector's gaze. "She wasn't here at all."

"Sorry?" Lestrade asked.

"For the record."

It took Greg a moment to realize what Sherlock was asking him to do.

"I…I don't know about that, Sherlock," the inspector replied. "Four of my officers have seen her."

"I'm sure you could come up with something. After all the work I've done for the Yard," Sherlock pressed.

Greg sighed.

"Just this once," the inspector said.

"Yes. Of course."

Greg shook his head with a grin, eyeing Sherlock.

"Wife?" The detective rolled his eyes, but the inspector ignored that turning his gaze to Rose. "I'm DI Greg Lestrade, but I suspect you already knew that the way you recognized me."

"I've seen your picture in the paper," she said, not really a lie since she had in fact seen him in the paper. "I know you're his friend."

She glanced at Sherlock who was watching them guardedly.

"Mentioned me has he?" Greg asked.

"Of course."

"Good things I hope?"

She gave Greg a smile.

"Mostly."

"Yes, well, if you're quite finished," Sherlock interrupted, wanting to get Rose back to the flat before Mycroft's prying eyes could spot her. "We should be going."

"Right," Lestrade said. "It was nice meeting you." Then he seemed to remember something. "Oh," he pulled the gun out the other officer had taken from her. "You'll probably be wanting this back."

"Thank you, Greg," she said, sliding the gun back into her holster and then retrieving her phone from the floor where she dropped it.

Sherlock took her arm before she could start up another conversation and lead her outside.

John followed the couple…_couple, _he couldn't help grinning at that. A word he never thought he'd use to describe Sherlock and anyone else. He knew they had a strange relationship, had thought about it a few times, but it never really hit him how strange it was until he saw her in that flat. He was able to clearly see how much younger she was. The faint laugh lines that had been around her eyes the last time he saw her were gone. _Time travel. _He didn't want to believe it, but it was the only thing that made sense.

Although the lines could be explained away with plastic surgery John was a medical doctor and he could tell, could see the other characteristics that marked her as being younger. A few years shy of Sherlock this time.

Sherlock hailed a cab and held the door as Rose climbed inside, but before he could climb in after her John stopped him.

"I'm going to walk," his friend said. "My flat's not too far off."

"If you're sure," Sherlock replied, knowing why John was choosing to walk and purposely avoiding voicing it.

"I am. I'll stop by tomorrow."

"All right."

He slid into the seat next to Rose and gave the cabbie the address. Then he sat back, glancing at her, unable to refrain from returning the smile she wore.

* * *

><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**


	13. Wrong Place Wrong Time Pt2

Sherlock unlocked the door to 221 Baker Street and allowed her to step inside first. He followed, closing the door as she removed his coat, having been using it to shield herself from Mycroft's prying cameras and the eyes of the people watching his flat.

It was the best plan he could come up with on short notice, well, the best plan that kept her with him. She would leave soon. As he took his coat and draped it over his arm he tried to come up with a way to keep her there, even if just for a bit.

He knew eventually there would come a time when she stayed, but this wasn't that time. He'd seen the traces of himself on her. His future self. Again he felt that strange sensation of jealousy try to take hold, but he forced it back. She was there, now, with him and he would take that.

"How about a cuppa?" she asked with a grin.

He smiled. It was something at least.

"I believe that can be arranged," he relied, heading for the stairs.

She followed him up and he opened the door, again allowing her to enter first, but when he followed her inside he paused. Mrs. Hudson was sitting in John's chair and a distraught woman sat in _the _chair. A client.

He nearly rolled his eyes, irritated at the intrusion, but stopped. A case. He glanced at Rose. Would she stay for a case? He watched the way her eyes fell on the woman in the chair, concern evident. Yes, she very well might, depending on the case. He grinned.

"Sherlock," Mrs. Hudson said, standing up. "Good, you're back. You have a-"

"Client. Yes, I can see that," he replied, a bit briskly in his desire to usher Mrs. Hudson out so he could find out about the case.

Rose gave Sherlock a _not at all pleased _look and then turned her attention on the woman she'd come to think of as a second mother as the woman's eyes fell on her.

"Who's this?" Mrs. Hudson asked, crossing the room toward them.

"I'm Rose," she introduced.

The woman glanced between them for a moment and then smiled.

"Sherlock's Rose?" Mrs. Hudson inquired. "The one his brother was asking about?"

"Yep. That's me."

_Sherlock's Rose? _He glanced from Mrs. Hudson to her. Well, he was the one she always called when she was in trouble and she would be his wife in future. _His impossible girl. _He supposed _Sherlock's Rose…his Rose _did seem accurate and, not that he'd openly admit it, but he did like the feel of it.

"I'm sure you have programs to get back to, Mrs. Hudson," he said, taking the woman's arm and leading her toward the door. "And we don't want to keep our client waiting."

"All right then, but I'll be downstairs if you need anything." This last bit was said to Rose. "It was nice meeting you, even if it was briefly."

Rose smiled.

"It was lovely meeting you."

"You've both met. It was lovely. Goodbye, Mrs. Hudson," he replied, closing the door.

He glanced at Rose and caught the _not at all pleased _look she wore again, but he ignored it as he walked over and sat down in his chair. She joined him a moment later, taking John's chair.

"Now then, Mrs.…" he began.

"Thompson," the woman replied, her voice strong with emotion.

He took in the wedding ring she wore. There were dark circles under her eyes, shoulders slumped, back arched a bit, fatigue evident in her eyes, telling him she hadn't slept much in quite a while. The state of her hair, brushed, but no time had been taken to style it, her clothes were rumpled, fingernails that had once been kept manicured were chipped the one on the index finger of her right hand had been chewed, nervous habit she recently developed. All the signs pointed to one conclusion. She lost her husband recently, no more than a few months ago. She still wore the ring either out of habit or denial.

She wasn't here for that though. There was something else. She clutched a tissue in one hand, most likely provided by Mrs. Hudson and a picture in the other. A girl. Mid teens. He caught the woman's gaze.

"How long has your daughter been missing?" he inquired, earning a surprised look from her and a smile from Rose.

He resisted the urge to smile in kind, though it was difficult when she looked at him like that.

"How did you-" the woman began.

He waved his hand dismissively.

"How long?"

"Six hours."

"Have you phoned the police?"

"Of course, but they haven't come up with anything. She's not like this, Mr. Holmes." The woman paused. "At least she wasn't like this before."

"Before your husband's death, you mean."

Again the woman gave him a surprised glance. He was used to that sort of thing.

"Y-yes. Albert died four months ago and since then she…changed, but she's never been gone this long. I called all of her friends, but no one's seen her."

"They could be lying."

"Mandy's only fifteen. I just…I just want her home," the woman replied, tears sliding down her cheeks.

Rose stood up and was beside the woman a moment later, taking Mrs. Thompson's hands. Yes, she would stay. He grinned, standing up.

"We'll take the case," he announced. "I'll need to see her room of course and you'll need to provide a list of her friends, anyone she's had contact with." He crossed the room, retrieving his coat as both Rose and Mrs. Thompson joined him.

"Of course," the woman replied.

He opened the door, handing Rose his coat so she could keep herself hidden until they were away from Baker Street. Then he followed them down the stairs and outside.

* * *

><p>Sherlock stepped into Mandy's room and gazed over it. Posters were pinned to the walls. Movies, musicians, and some that he recognized as programs on the telly, not that he watched that sort of thing. He watched Rose walk straight over to the bed, as if she knew exactly what she was looking for and precisely where to find it. She reached between the mattresses and pulled out a book with a pink cover…a diary.<p>

"How did you know that was there?" he inquired.

He would've gotten there eventually, but she seemed to know. How could she know? She gave him a grin.

"Fifteen year old girl without a dad. I know how that feels, yeah?" she replied.

"Yes, but how did you know it would be there? She could've kept her diary on her laptop," he pointed out the open laptop sitting on the girl's desk.

"She probably does, but not the real one."

"How do you know that?"

"I've experience with overprotective mums too," she replied with a grin. He still seemed confused. "It's only been six hours and she's already consulting the most famous consulting detective."

She quirked her brow and he grinned. She was good. She opened the girl's diary and began leafing through it. While she looked for information there he sat down at the desk and began accessing her laptop, looking for anything that might tell him what happened to the girl.

He read a bit of Mandy's obviously false diary.

"Her mother actually believes this drivel?" he inquired, more to himself.

"Most people generally believe what that want," she replied. He glanced at her. "Tell someone what they want to hear and they'll believe it's true."

He knew she was right, of course. He worked enough cases where people were taken in by one con or another.

"A parent should know their child better."

"Every parent can't be…" _us _she'd been about to say, but realized this was him before.

"Can't be what?" he asked, noting the look that told him she almost said something she shouldn't. _Us_? Is that what she'd been about to say?

He knew they had a child. He hadn't actually thought about it, was afraid to. Having a child wasn't something he ever considered, not having been around many children, even when he was a child, but then Mycroft had run most of them off.

"It looks like she was seeing someone," Rose said, changing the subject. "Sort of."

"Sort of?" he inquired, but she was standing up and walking toward him.

"There's a site," she showed him the girl's diary. "Here." She indicated the name.

He typed in the address and brought up the site. Online chatting site.

"Mm," he replied navigating to the login page. "User name and password."

"We've got his username."

"Yes, but without any information on him it will take a while to work out his password."

"Type in his username. I'll take care of his password."

"How?" he asked, glancing at her.

She grinned.

"Just do it."

He drew his brows together, but he typed in the bloke's password and then she reached into her jean pocket and pulled her sonic out, pushing the button, concentrating on the password. A moment later they were in.

"How did you do that?" he inquired, completely baffled by the device. "I thought that only unlocked doors."

"It does a little bit of everything…except wood. It's rubbish with wood." She slid the sonic back into her pocket and leaned over, gazing at the screen while she rested her hand on his shoulder.

He glanced at her hand and then turned his attention to the chat site, fingers flying over the keyboard.

"I can bring up his old chats, but only the ones for the last twenty-four hours, after that they're deleted."

Sixteen chat windows popped up. Chats the bloke had with sixteen different girls, all roughly the same age as Mandy. As he read them he knew she was doing the same. An audible gasp from her told him she came to the conclusion he had. This online boyfriend was, in fact, a predator and if Mandy was anywhere near him she was in danger.

"We have to find her," Rose said, concern evident in her voice.

He glanced at her and the look in her eyes was enough to wrench his heart. He turned back to the laptop and began tracking the address back to the source.

"I'm tracking his address back." His fingers flew across the keyboard and he could feel her eyes on him. "I should have a location…now."

She stood up, removing her hand from his shoulder as he got to his feet. He didn't realize he'd taken her hand until they were halfway down the hall.

"Did you find anything?" Mrs. Thompson called as they stepped through the living room.

"Possibly. We're going to run down the lead, but if we find anything we'll phone," Rose replied, as Sherlock opened the door and pulled her out.

* * *

><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**


	14. Wrong Place Wrong Time Pt3

Happy Valentine's Day! I'll be putting another up later filled with future fluffiness. :)

* * *

><p>The moment Rose realized what kind of trouble Mandy was in her whole focus became saving the girl. Her mind kept turning to Ally, barely eight, but one day her daughter would be fifteen. One day Ally would turn the heads of not only boys, but men like this.<p>

She didn't think Mandy's situation could be much worse…at least she didn't until she caught sight of the small compound like mansion, complete with high walled fence and iron gate with an armed security guard on the other side. Not a normal predator then. There was something else going on.

Sherlock had instructed the cabbie to circle the block and then drop them the next street over so as to get a look at the place. It wasn't what he expected and, he could see from Rose's reaction it wasn't what she expected either. The look she wore was a mixture of concern, fear, and anger.

He watched her hand ball into a fist and he could almost feel the wave of anger pass over her as the cab drove past the gate. Without a thought he placed his hand over hers, realizing at that moment that he hadn't slipped his gloves back on. She glanced at him, catching his gaze. He felt his eyes soften, as they did every time he looked at her.

"We'll get her out," he said.

"I know," she replied. "'S just," she turned her gaze back out the window as they passed the high walled fence. "People like this…I used to believe that people deserved a second chance, and I still do, but not for everyone, not anymore."

His hand tightened over hers in his desire to change whatever happened in her past that took that belief away from her. She'd been through a traumatic experience, he heard that the last time they were together, in the sound of her voice. The anger that he started to feel at that thought dissipated a moment later as she laid her head on his shoulder, as if it were normal, an everyday occurrence between them and he felt himself wishing that it was.

* * *

><p>Sherlock pulled himself up on the edge of the wall. There was a line of trees on that side between the wall and the mansion. It's the reason he chose that area. It kept the mansion hidden from view of the neighboring flats, but it also would keep them hidden from view of any cameras or security guards.<p>

He offered Rose his hand and helped her over, though she climbed easily and seemed very agile, making him realize she probably didn't need any help, but she allowed it, even gave him a grin and a whispered _thank you _before dropping down on the other side. He reached her a moment later and they quickly concealed themselves among the trees.

"You sent Greg a text, yeah?" she asked.

He almost asked how she knew, but then realized that she probably knew him as well as he knew himself, maybe more. It was the way she looked at him that made him think the latter. As if she could see something in him that he couldn't see himself. There had only been one other person who looked at him like that. He pushed the memories aside, now was not the time to think about the past.

"Of course," he replied.

They cautiously drew closer to the other side. The mansion came into view. As they concealed themselves behind the trunk of a large tree he peeked around the side. Two story with a balcony running the length of the second. Glass doors provided outside access, but there wasn't a ladder, not even a drain pipe near the balcony.

"How are we going to get inside?" Rose asked.

His eyes fell on a basement door, to their left, near the back. The stairs were half concealed between flowering shrubs. He grinned.

"There," he said, nodding toward it.

"You're brilliant," she exclaimed.

He didn't have to look at her to know she was smiling, but he did because he enjoyed the way she looked at him like that. He returned her smile. He gazed at her for a moment and then he took her hand and shifted, meaning to begin crossing the open area that separated them from the door, but she stopped him.

He glanced at her. Rose saw him shoot her a confused look. Was he having fun with her? He must be. He knew her. _John _knew her and when her eyes met Sherlock's he got the same look he'd always had. The one that told her how much he cared.

"Is that it then?" she asked with a grin, her voice taking on that teasing tone. "You're just going to take my hand and run into danger?"

Sherlock gazed at her, trying to figure out what she meant. Did she want to stay behind? Not that he hadn't thought about that, but he doubted she would and he'd never ask her to.

"Did you want me to go on my own?" he inquired.

Now she knew he was teasing. She grinned, pulling him closer as she grabbed his lapel with her free hand.

"Oh, come here you idiot genius," she said and then pulled him down for a kiss.

He had about a half second to realize that she was kissing him before every thought, rational or otherwise, vanished like sand in a windstorm. It wasn't the kiss of two people who hardly knew each other, it was the gentle caress of a lover. He released her hand, both of his winding around her waist as if they had a mind of their own and he pulled her closer.

One of her hands reached up to tangle in his hair while the other slipped under his coat, winding around his waist. There was no awkwardness. It was as if they'd always known each other, as if this weren't their first kiss, but the meeting of one soul who had always known the other.

Every feeling seemed to be heightened by her, her scent, her touch. He wanted more of her, all of her and when he deepened their kiss she allowed it. She wasn't like anyone he'd ever met and he swore he could taste the difference on her. Something wild and raw and powerful, power she held over him. _Stardust. _The word whispered through his mind and he knew what it was. Particles that held the power of the universe. Some long ago bit of information having been tucked in the deep recesses of his mind, information he would've deleted had he known of its existence, but he was glad he hadn't because it was the only word that fit. The only word that could describe _his impossible girl. _

He felt her pulled back, breaking their kiss and he was reluctant to let her go. His body protesting as his hands tightened their hold, wanting to keep her there, with him, always. She ended their kiss, but still he held her, gazing over her, memorizing every detail as he tried to make sense of her.

She laughed, ending in a teasing grin.

"We can't get into the basement until you let me go," she said.

He, reluctantly, released her, forcing his mind back to the case, but the feelings she elicited in him, the way she kissed him, those thoughts lingered. He knew their kiss probably only lasted a few seconds. His ability to catalog every detail making seconds seem like minutes, but that one kiss was enough to make him realize that even if he wanted to he could never walk away from her.

He took her hand and together they raced for the basement door.

* * *

><p>Rose used the sonic to unlock the basement door. She caught the strange glances Sherlock kept shooting her. Why was he acting so weird? She pushed the question aside. She could find out later, for now all that mattered was finding Mandy and keeping her safe before…the sound of sirens in the distance drew her attention. <em>Bloody hell! <em>

The door unlock with a soft click and she turned the handle, hurrying inside. The basement was dark and became darker when he closed the door. A moment later he took her hand and she glanced at his outline. It wasn't an uncommon action, but he seemed very focused on her.

She could hear movement and the muffled sounds of sobs. She raised the sonic and pushed the button. A moment later the basement flooded with dim light. It was littered with boxes, crates and a few pieces of covered furniture.

The moment Sherlock entered the dark basement his first instinct was to locate Rose. He'd seen her outline and immediately took her hand. If anything happened he wanted to be ready to pull her back, protect her. It was strange, this need to keep her safe, but he could neither understand nor control it.

He could hear the muffled sobs. Three girls somewhere in the basement. As soon as Rose turned the lights on with that device he scanned the room. There had to be a door. His eyes fell on a large china hutch against the wall to their right.

He walked toward it, releasing her hand as he drew near.

"There's a door," he replied, grabbing the side of the hutch and pulling it away from the wall.

Rose caught sight of the door on the other side.

"Most brilliant man in the universe," she beamed and he couldn't help returning her smile.

He could've used his lock picks, but her device worked faster. He glanced at her, nodding at the device in her hand, not sure if she would allow it. To his surprise she handed it over as if she knew what he was going to ask. He took the device, it was heavier than he expected.

"So, I press this button on the side?" he inquired.

She almost laughed and then realized he was being serious. He hadn't used the sonic before. Wait. She thought back to their kiss. _Bollocks! _She pushed the thought aside.

"Aim at the door handle. Think about unlocking the door and then hold down the button until you hear it unlock," she explained.

_Think about unlocking the door? _How could the device know what he wanted? He did as she instructed, even if he wasn't sure how it was possible, and a moment later he heard the soft click of the door unlocking.

He handed the device back, glancing at her and caught the smile she wore, the admiration that was always present when she looked at him shining in her deep hazel eyes. He returned her smile, but at that moment the door at the top of the stairs opened and he pulled his gun, aiming it, Rose was beside him a moment later, her own gun in her hand.

The person descended and they both relaxed as they caught sight of Greg followed by Sally.

"Should've known you'd have something to do with this," Sally said.

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Of course he's here or is there someone else you know of who takes the time to solve cases so you can catch criminals before they hurt anyone else?" Rose asked.

He glanced at her. Is that really what she thought of him? It was true he worked cases and helped the Yard catch criminals, well, more like he did all the work of locating them and then the Yard came in and arrested them, but it was the cases not the people. With the exception of John and Mary and John's ex-commander, but that was because the man was important to his friend.

Before he could say anything she turned her attention to the door and opened it, stepping inside. He followed, giving Greg and Sally a glance before entering. Three gasps followed their entrance and he could hear the girls shifting in the far corner.

"'S all right," Rose said in a soothing, motherly voice.

He felt along the wall and found a switch. The small room flooded with light and three girls roughly the same age were huddled on a mattress together. All three frightened, but fully clothes and appeared to be unharmed, trauma of the experience aside.

Rose blinked at the lights illuminated the room and the girls. Anger at the situation they'd been forced into and concern for them battled for control. She wanted to run to them, pull them out of there, get them as far from this nightmare as possible, but she held back, knowing how frightened they were and that running over to them might scare them.

"I'm Rose," she said, cautiously stepping toward them, gazing at their frightened eyes. "Is one of you Mandy."

"I…" a girl on the end, straight dark hair, wearing a tunic style shirt and leggings chocked out and then swallowed. "I am."

"Your mum asked us to find you," she reached them then, bending down.

Mandy glanced from her to Sherlock and back.

"He…he's with you?"

"Yep. That's Sherlock Holmes, have you heard of him?" Mandy nodded. "He's the one who figure out where you were."

"Can I go home?"

Rose smiled, taking the girl's hand and then resting her eyes on the other two in turn.

"You can all go home, yeah?"

A moment later she was inveloped by three hugs and couldn't help laughing softly.

Sherlock watched her from the doorway. He knew Lestrade and Donovan were also watching, but he ignored their presence, focusing on her. She had a way that made people trust her, made them feel safe around her. He had, on occasion, faked that sort of behavior, but hers was genuine. She was, in his opinion, his polar opposite. Everything that he was not. It made him question why she would choose him. Why she would choose to spend her life with someone who was unable to care the way she cared.

* * *

><p>Sherlock followed Rose into his flat, not having been alone with her since Lestrade and Donovan's arrival. None of the girls wanted to be out of Rose's presence until they were safely back with their parents, something she easily obliged.<p>

She was able to smooth over their fear, with a word or a brush of their hair. He watched their interactions intently, almost mesmerized by her ability to make them feel better after their nightmare of an ordeal.

He strode into the kitchen and put the kettle on after removing his coat and scarf. The question from the crime scene had plagued him the entire time and he felt a need to know the answer, but at the same time he was afraid of voicing the question. She was far too good for someone like him, but he was afraid of losing her, afraid of voicing that question, planting seeds of doubt in her that would later make her realize the truth of his words.

Rose watched him carefully. He'd been strange at the crime scene, but after finding the girls his strange behavior had grown. Had she done something? Said something? Revealed something before she should have?

Sherlock could feel her standing behind him, but he didn't turn around, too afraid the question would find a voice. He felt her hand on his shoulder.

"Did I do something?" she asked, her voice hesitant for the first time.

He turned around then and caught her gaze. How could she believe she could ever do anything wrong? She was the pure essence of good, of light in a dark world. He took her hand, wanting to banish that thought from her mind.

"No," _luv_ he almost said, but stopped himself. There was such concern in her eyes that he couldn't resist telling her. "You're wrong…about me."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

She was under a delusion and as much as he wanted to keep her he couldn't allow her to believe he was something that he wasn't.

"I care about the case, not the person." He glanced at their hands, not wanting to watch that adoration that she held for him die. "I'm not a savior, Rose. That's not who I am."

He felt her cup his cheek. She tilted his head up to meet her eyes and the smile she wore, the look in her eyes, wasn't teasing, wasn't adoration, it was love, pure and complete.

"And you are so wrong," she replied. "You don't think you can care like other people, but you already do. I know why you chose logic over feelings. You can hide the truth from yourself, but you can't hide it from me because I know, I can see it. I've always been able to see who you really are Sherlock Holmes."

The way she gazed at him, gazed into him told him the truth of her words, made him believe that there was something inside him that she could see. It made him want to be better, for her.

"'S why I love you," she continued.

The word, spoken so easily, gave him pause. He'd heard it from others after getting them to fall in love with him, but those had been charades. He never reciprocated their feelings. They had been pawns, a means for him to gain information or complete his plan. The word coming from her seemed to fill some hole inside of him, one he didn't even know existed.

"I…" he began, but she pressed her finger to his lips.

"Not yet. You're not ready, but 's okay," she said, pulling her finger back, but the feeling of her touch still lingered. "I've heard you say them and I only want you to when you're ready. When you know."

He felt her hand relax in his and he could see the look that told him she was going to leave, but he tightened his hold.

"Don't go." Not a statement, but a plea.

"I'm sorry, but I can't stay, not yet."

"When?"

"Soon. I promise," she pulled back and stepped away, entering the information in her Vortex Manipulator. She caught his gaze before she pressed the button. "And I'm sorry."

Before he could ask what she meant she was gone. At that moment the kettle boiled. _Soon_, but when was soon? And what could she possibly have to be sorry about?

* * *

><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**


	15. Family Pt2

Here's some Mycroft fluffiness! :)

* * *

><p>Sherlock glanced up from the laptop as the front door opened. He'd been standing at the desk, bent over, but as Mycroft stepped into the flat he straightened. His brother was dressed in the usual attire, carrying the umbrella that almost seemed a constant accessory for reasons he knew Mycroft would never admit to.<p>

"Don't trouble yourself, dear brother, I can let myself in," Mycroft said.

"Nothing new there then," Sherlock replied.

His brother gave him a tight smile, closing the door. At that moment Rose stepped into the room and the very air seemed to change.

"Mycroft," she greeted, hurrying across the room and pulling the elder Holmes into a tight hug.

"Careful now, my dear, you'll wrinkle your dress," Mycroft replied, but his hands wove around her waist as he returned her hug.

She pulled back a minute later, giving the man she thought of as family a grin.

"You're more important than a silly old dress."

"That _silly old dress _as you call it cost a fair bit of coin," Sherlock replied, his own grin in place as he crossed the room toward his wife who was wearing a long silver silk gown that not only accentuated every part of her body, but fairly took his breath away the moment she stepped into the room.

"Fine then, silly expensive dress," she replied, giving him that cheeky grin and it was everything he could do not to usher his brother back out the door, but that would ruin their plans for that evening, well, his plans.

"I'm not sure how much my brother paid, but I can assure you it wasn't enough. You look breathtaking, my dear," Mycroft said.

Her attention focused on the elder Holmes as she beamed.

"Are you being cheeky again, Mike?"

"That depends," the man replied with his own smile. "Is it working?"

She laughed.

"You know I'd never leave my husband."

She gave Sherlock a smile he returned.

"I have all hope you'll eventually tire of my little brother."

"Uncle Mike!" the exclamation came from the kitchen and a moment later an amber eyed, dark curled mass of energy raced through the room and threw herself, quite literally, around the waist of a bemused Mycroft Holmes.

"Good evening, Allison," Mycroft greeted. "I can see your father allowed desert before my arrival."

Rose caught the wicked grin Sherlock was sporting and slapped his arm.

"What?" he asked, as if he were perfectly innocent, which she knew he wasn't.

"I told you to wait," she said, but her chastising was lost in the grin she wore.

"She said please. How could I refuse?"

"Actually, you said don't tell mum I'm giving you extra ice-cream and definitely don't tell her about the fudge," Alley said in that completely honest six year old way.

"I don't recall that," Sherlock replied, stepping over to the door and busying himself with his coat and scarf.

"Uncle Mike believes me, don't you Uncle Mike?" she asked, still clinging to Mycroft's middle and looked up at him with big amber eyes.

"Of course I do, Allison. That sounds exactly like your father. Now, why don't you go find a story," Mycroft replied and was greeted by an ear splitting squeal of delight before she extracted herself from him and raced up to her room.

Sherlock helped Rose into her coat, before catching his brother's gaze.

"Ice-cream and hot fudge?" Mycroft asked disapprovingly.

"I could say the same for the three éclairs you let her eat before you brought her back from the zoo on Monday," Sherlock replied.

His brother smiled and then turned his attention to Rose.

"I hope my brother hasn't planned too dull of an evening," Mycroft said.

"I'm not sure. He's keeping whatever plan he has secret," she replied, giving Sherlock a smile.

"Let's hope that doesn't bode ill, but if it does, as my dear brother once pointed out, private jets can be charterd, plans can be changed."

"You're sweet," she said, resting her hand on the elder Holmes arm and bending forward to place a kiss on his cheek. "But I really do think one Holmes is quite enough for me."

Sherlock took her arm then and led her out of the flat. Mycroft stared at the closed door a moment and, when he was sure no one could hear he allowed the slight sigh. It was a lark, always a lark on the outset. He would never, of course, break up their family and he knew that he didn't stand a chance against her feelings for his brother, but he couldn't help being drawn to the light that was her.

"I found one," his niece's voice carried across the room to him and he turned around, giving the girl a smile.

Allison, named after the one they lost. The other one. He might not be able to have the life he wished for, a life he never thought about before he almost died, but at least he wasn't alone.

"What is it this time? Dragons? Witches? Pirates?" he asked walking over to John's chair.

"Time travelers," she replied, climbing into his lap after he sat down and handing over the book.

He chuckled at that.

"You really are your mother's daughter," he said.

* * *

><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**If you have time reviews are always welcome. :)**


	16. Valentine

It's super short, I know, but it's pretty. :)

* * *

><p>Sherlock led Rose to the center of the dome shaped room, his hands on her bare shoulders, having removed her coat downstairs. She was grinning, unable to see anything through the blindfold, but she trusted him. She always trusted him, <em>with everything always <em>as she once said.

"Can I take the blindfold off yet?" she asked.

"Not yet, luv," he replied. "I want everything to be perfect."

"You're too good to me. You know that, yeah?"

He bent down and kissed her, once, softly, unable to resist and then pulled away.

"Nothing is too good for you." He stopped her. "Now, don't move."

He stepped back, gazing over her a moment in the sliver dress that he purchased, handcrafted for her. Knowing every inch of her as he did he easily gave the seamstress the required measurements. It'd been her first gift of the evening, but it would, by far, be her last.

He pulled the sonic out and pointed it at the constellation light and pushed the button. The cutout stars and moons were replaced by actual constellations that danced over the walls and ceiling. Then he started the music and lit the candle on the table before returning to her.

He reached back and untied the blindfold, removing it slowly. She blinked, her eyes catching his for a brief moment before turning her gaze on the room and the smile that took hold, the wonder in her eyes was all the reward he needed.

"I know I can't take you to the stars so I brought them to you," he said.

Her shining eyes fixed on him and he could see the tears in the corners, happy tears he knew. She pulled him into a hug.

"I can't believe you did all this for me," she replied.

"I would do anything for you. You should know that."

She pulled back and caught his gaze.

"And I would do anything for you."

"I know, luv," he replied, knowing her words were true because he'd already watched her make the ultimate sacrifice for him.

He banished the memory before it could take hold, as he always did when they were together. He returned her smile and offered his hand.

"May I have this dance?" he asked.

She gave him her hand.

"Always," she replied.

Rose couldn't help grinning and she knew she was smiling like an idiot, but he'd put so much work into the evening and for her. Always for her. She never thought she would ever be this happy, would ever find someone like him. After everything that happened on Pete's world she started to think that she was just as cursed as the Doctor. That the universe was conspiring to keep her from ever truly being happy. She spent a year trying to get away from those memories, trying to find a way back to Jack, to Mickey, to a life she could find some semblance of happiness in, but the universe had other plans and she wound up there.

She didn't like to think about what happened in those first few days. The horrors she experienced, but it was because of those that he found her, saved her. He stayed with her, took care of her and she knew she only survived that because of him. There wasn't anything she wouldn't do for him. She was _his impossible girl _and he was the love of her life.

* * *

><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**


	17. Not Everyone Can Be Saved Pt1

Mycroft glanced up as the door to his office opened. He'd been expecting Rose having agreed to help her plan Sherlock's birthday, not something he would've conceived of doing before her, but he'd never been able to refuse her and he found himself unable to turn down a chance to spend time with her, even if it was for someone else, the man she was in love with.

The person who stepped into his office wasn't who he expected. He stood up, eyes widening as he realized he'd seen the man before. This was the man who tried to kill him. The man who nearly killed her.

"Mycroft Holmes," the man sneered.

"Yes," Mycroft replied, trying to work out a plan, one that would change things, one that would take away the guilt she felt.

There was one way. Only one and he knew what the result would be.

"It's your fault she's dead."

"I'm sorry?" Mycroft asked, having no idea who the man was referring to.

"You don't even know what I'm talking about do you? But you will," the man snapped, unzipping his jacket to reveal the bomb Mycroft knew was strapped underneath.

The man pulled a dead-man's switch from his jacket pocket.

"There was a mission last month, do you remember?" the man continued.

Mycroft recalled the mission. He lost two agents. Donald Michaels and… "You're Angie's husband," he said.

"I'm surprised you didn't recognize me, but then we only met briefly at that Christmas party. I suppose to someone like you none of the little people matter."

So this…all of it was on him. He was the cause of her guilt. He made up his mind quickly, knowing that he, like his brother, would do anything for her.

"You're right, of course," he said, earning a glare from the unstable man. "I haven't given your wife's death a second thought, but then why should I? If she'd been half the agent I believed she was she would still be alive."

The man's finger twitched over the dead-man's switched, but at that moment a flash of light followed by a zapping noise alerted Mycroft to Rose's presence. _Bloody hell! _

"Rose! Go!" he shouted, hurrying around the desk, to try to stop what he knew was about to happen.

Rose glanced from Mycroft to the man, but before she could fully realize the situation the man spun around and grabbed her arm, his fingers closing over the Vortex Manipulator.

Mycroft saw the surprise in her eyes and in the next moment they were both gone. Proceeded by the noise and flash of light. His heart lurched in his chest and he stopped, eyes closing. He'd been unable to stop it, to change what happened, what was about to happen to her.

* * *

><p>The familiar sensation passed and Rose found herself standing on a London street, mid-afternoon. The man released her hand, a look of surprise and confusion on his face.<p>

"What the hell was that?" he demanded.

She took in the bomb strapped to his chest. Dead-man's switch in his right hand. Who the hell was he? Had he been trying to kill Mike? She could see the desperation in his eyes and something else…loss.

"Look, I…I don't know what happened to you, but I can help, yeah?" she tried. "Just…just don't do anything rash."

"You can't help me. No one can help me!" he yelled, his eyes darting around the road wildly as he tried to hide the bomb, but keeping the switch in his hand. "She's dead! It's not something that can be fixed!"

He'd lost someone and now he wanted revenge. Mike? She didn't think he'd actually kill anyone. She took a step toward the man, wanting to make him see reason, stop him from throwing away his life, but her movement made his eyes snap to her and in the next moment he was running.

She chased after him. She couldn't let him run around London with a bomb strapped to his chest. She had to keep him from killing himself and anyone else. He was unstable, but she had to try to help him. It's who she was.

Mycroft's driver opened the door, but before he climbed into his car a man raced past him and then up the steps of the museum he'd just come from. The man was being pursued by a blonde woman. No. He turned, not just any blonde woman. _Her. _Sherlock's wife. The woman he'd been trying to locate for the past three months.

Without a second thought he gave chase. Up the steps and through the main doors. He caught sight of her as she raced around a corner into the newer area that was still under construction. The curator planned an Egyptian section, which was the whole reason Mycroft had been there. Image was everything in his line of work and donating always looked good.

He raced into the unfinished room, but a moment later someone grabbed him from behind. His umbrella clattered to the floor.

"Looks like I'm going to get a second chance," a man sneered.

"What is this about?" Mycroft insisted, trying to struggle out of the man's grip, but the arm around his throat tightened.

In the next moment Rose stepped toward them.

"Look just…just calm down," she said in a soothing voice as she cautiously crept toward them.

Where the hell had Mike come from? She glanced over the elder Holmes and noted the differences. _Shit! _This was past Mike. Bringing the bloke back was on her and she couldn't let Mike get hurt because she'd decided to save time by coming back from picking up Sherlock's present and gone straight to his house instead of going home and putting the device away, which is what she should've done.

"I am calm," the man yelled.

"Clearly," Mycroft said, the man's arm tightened and for a moment the elder Holmes floundered, unable to breathe.

She resisted the urge to tell Mike he wasn't helping and point out that people who were being held hostage shouldn't upset the person holding them. Instead she tried to diffuse the situation the best way she knew how. Through common ground.

"Hey," Rose said, drawing the man's attention. "I…I know you're upset because you lost someone one."

"Did he tell you that?" the man asked.

"No. Loss recognizes loss, yeah?" she said and the man's arm relaxed enough for Mycroft to take a breath.

He gasped for a moment, coughing. The man ignored him, eyeing Rose. The bloke swallowed.

"It's his fault. She's dead because of him."

"I assure you I have no idea what or who you're referring to."

She watched the man's eyes darken, but she raised her arms, drawing the bloke's attention before he snapped, something he was very close to doing.

"I know you need someone to blame. I've been there. I understand that, but this…what you're doing, do you really think this is what she'd want?" The man's shoulders relaxed a bit and she knew she was getting through to him. "Your wife, yeah?" He didn't have to tell her. She could see it. "You loved her. I can see that and she must have loved you for you to miss her this much, but you know she wouldn't have wanted this for you. Wouldn't have wanted you to hurt anyone. Am I right?"

The man sighed and she could feel the weight he carried in it.

"She was an agent, but she never hurt anyone." Mycroft started to chuckle, but Rose's eyes snapped to his and the laugh ended in a cough.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"It's Danny."

"I'm Rose and the man you're holding, he's important to me." Mycroft's face became unreadable, but Rose ignored that. "I know he can be an arrogant sod at times, but he's not a bad sort. Not really and he's my family. I don't have much family left so, please, don't make me lose anymore."

Danny glanced at Mycroft a moment and then he released his hold, pushing the elder Holmes toward her.

"Fine," the man said and she could hear the resignation in his voice as she took Mike's arm and pull him toward her.

"Thank you," she replied.

"You should go, both of you."

"Danny, don't do this."

Mycroft took her arm.

"You heard him, Rose," he said, trying to pull her out of the room.

"Danny, please!" she shouted, but in the next moment Mycroft wrenched her out of the room. "Mike! Stop! We have to go back!"

In the next moment a loud explosion shook the entire building. Both Rose and Mycroft were thrown into the air by the force of the blast.

* * *

><p>Sherlock sat in his chair his mind, as it always did during a lull in cases, turned to her. It had been forty-three days since he'd seen her. Every minute drug past excruciatingly slow as she was all he could think about. <em>Soon<em>.

How many more times would he have to let her go before she stayed? He longed for the day he would wake up to her. The day he could wrap his arms around her and not fear she would leave him.

He allowed himself to return to that day, almost half a year ago now. The first time he saw her. The first time he looked into her eyes. Even then he'd felt a pull toward her. He'd felt that she was different that she was special, though he wouldn't allow himself to hold onto those thoughts.

She had given herself for him without a second thought. That's what drew him in, what made him need to know who she was. He knew he couldn't change that day, couldn't change those events, but he had to save her. There had to be a way.

"Sherlock," John's insistent voice interrupted his thoughts. He glanced up at his friend in annoyance as the man hovered over him. "Phone."

He glanced at his phone in John's hand and then took it, knowing it wasn't her, his friend would have told him.

"Yes?" he snapped, a bit irritated.

"Sherlock?" Lestrade's voice greeted him.

Was it a case? He could do with a distraction. He sat up.

"Where?" he asked.

"No, it's…it's not a case."

He could hear anxiety in the inspector's voice and something else…concern? Every fiber of his being flooded with dread as one thought filled his mind. Something happened to her.

"What is it?"

"There's been an explosion at one of the museums. It looks like it was a bomb."

"That's not your division."

"No…I…look they wanted me to call because of our…you know…"

"Tell me what happened," he insisted, growing angrier by the second.

Whatever it was was bad, he could hear that in Greg's voice.

"It's…well…it's Mycroft."

The dread was quickly replaced by two emotions. Fear and concern. Mycroft. His brother. His brother was in the museum when the bomb went off. It's the only reason Greg would be calling.

"Text me the address," he said, standing up. "We're on our way."

"Sherlock look, there isn't anything you can do. We have our best men on it."

"I've seen what your best men can do inspector. This is my brother we're talking about. I won't allow any of your idiots to screw this up," the last bit he fairly shouted, but he didn't care.

John watched Sherlock hang up the phone after shouting at Greg. Something happened to Mycroft. He stood up and grabbed his coat, following Sherlock out of the flat and down the stairs.

* * *

><p>Rose coughed. Slowly, she opened her eyes. It was dark, too dark to see. Her right ankle burned as if it was on fire, but she ignored that as she pushed herself up. She'd been lying on her chest.<p>

"Mike," she called.

When he didn't answer her heart flooded with fear. If he was dead she'd never forgive herself.

"Mike!"

She heard something shift above her and then dust rained down on her. She coughed again. She had to be careful. She must be in some kind of a pocket created by the debris and it was unstable. She carefully rolled over, hissing when she shifted her leg and her sore angle struck something on her right. Broken, at least she was fairly sure.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out her sonic. She pushed the button, hoping it wasn't loud enough to shift the debris. Using it as a torch she looked around the area she was trapped in. The ceiling of debris wasn't too far from her. Definitely not enough room to stand, but she could sit up so that was something. On her left the wall of debris was close. She didn't have to extend her hand to touch it.

She turned her attention to her right and that's when she saw him, lying on his back, eyes closed. There was a nasty gash on the left side of his head and his suit was more of a mess than she'd ever seen it. She reached down, feeling the pulse in his neck. Steady. Strong. She sighed in relief.

"Mike," she said, loud, but not loud enough to disturb the debris. He didn't move. " Mike." She slapped his cheek.

He moaned, making her grin.

Mycroft coughed, opening his eyes as a strange warbling noise assailed him. He found himself gazing up into the face of the woman who saved him. She appeared to be holding some sort of torch lit with a greenish glow. The torch was making the horrid noise.

He started to sit up, but a wave of dizziness passed over him.

"Are you all right?" she asked in concern.

"Yes. Fine," he lied, not wanting to betray a weakness. "It's that blasted noise."

"Sorry, no noise no light."

He glowered.

"Fine."

Rose watched him carefully. He said he was fine, but he looked anything, but fine. She casually passed the sonic over him and glanced at the readings.

"You have a concussion," she said.

"Are you a doctor now?"

She could hear the irritation in his voice and knew that was the fear, fear he'd never admit to. She smiled.

"If you like, but you do have a concussion."

She reached out and tested the debris behind her. It seemed stable enough. She scooted back, hissing as she drug her injured ankle.

"You're injured," Mycroft said after hearing her sharp intake of breath.

He forced the dizziness aside and gazed over her. There was a cut in her left cheek, not too deep, the back of her right hand, but it appeared to be one of her legs as she gazed down at them after he spoke.

"My ankle, yeah. I think it's broke, but we can worry about that once we get out of here."

"If we get out of here."

She laughed.

"You're more of a glass is half empty person, yeah?"

Before he could shoot off a reply she sat the torch down and he was immersed in complete darkness. He felt his chest constrict as panic threatened to take hold. He had one fear, only one and that fear involved the two things that were now assailing him. Complete darkness and small spaces. He could handle small spaces on their own. He could handle darkness on its own, but put the two together and his rational mind fled.

He felt her take his arm then and with more strength than he would've believed she possess she pulled him back towards her. A moment later he was leaned up, half against her and half against the hard debris that made up the back wall of their small, confined area. Then the torch was in her hand again, illuminating the space.

"Better?" she asked.

"We're trapped beneath the rubble of a collapsed building. According to you I have a concussion and your ankle is broken. I don't understand how you can believe a torch can make the situation better," he replied, irritably.

"You're right. A torch wouldn't make things better, but luckily this," she held up the sonic. "Isn't a torch and if we're very lucky it just might help us get out of here."

* * *

><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**


	18. Not Everyone Can Be Saved Pt2

Greg spotted Sherlock the moment the detective stepped out of the cab. The scene was a nightmare. Two bodies had already been pulled from the mess, but the debris shifted and Mycroft's people…some upper government bureaucrats wouldn't let anyone near the site until they located what they deemed a _suitable expert_.

He'd already had to pull Brooks off one of the blokes. Some long nosed arrogant sod who told Brooks he'd find himself in a country that didn't even appear on the most detailed map if he took one step toward the wreckage.

"I told you not to come down here," Greg snapped as he drew closer to the detective.

Sherlock wasn't listening to the inspector. The moment his eyes fell on the wreckage he felt emotions he never knew existed for his brother begin to stir. The entire building had collapsed in on itself. He'd never been a hopeful person and from his vantage point he couldn't see anything that would lead him to believe Mycroft could have survived that.

"Christ," John breathed beside him.

"How many bodies have you found?" he asked, latching onto the first question that came to mind.

Lestrade could see the concern in Sherlock's eyes. Something that took him by surprise and for a moment he couldn't seem to make his mouth function.

"Two, but your brother's associates won't let anyone near the site. The rubble shifted when we pulled the last body out. They insisted on calling in an expert, but they seem to be having a hell of a time locating one."

* * *

><p>"If it's not a torch then what is it?" Mycroft asked, gazing at the strange device.<p>

"Sonic screwdriver meet Mike, Mike meet the sonic screwdriver," Rose teased, trying to alleviate the situation.

"Sonic what?" he asked, eyeing it.

"Screwdriver." She glanced at him with a grin. "Yeah, bit of a rubbish title since it kind of makes you think it just unscrews screws, which it does, but it does a lot of other stuff too."

"Do tell."

"It's what told me you had a concussion, it unlocks doors, turns on lights, scans computer files, shorts things out, charges batteries, boosts power, the list goes on."

"How, exactly, can that device do all that?"

"Think of it like a computer that can scan things and give readings."

"And short out devices, charge batteries, boost power. That device can't possibly do all that."

"I've found that a lot of things I deemed impossible are actually quite possible…somewhere."

"Yes, well, you have quite the imagination."

She grinned, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"I've been told."

He gave her a startled glance that made her laugh.

"You really should refrain from laughing," he said. "It's a waste of oxygen and since we're trapped we can't be sure we have air to squander."

_Damn! _She hadn't thought of that. She held the sonic out and pressed the button.

"What are you doing?" he inquired.

"Testing your theory," she replied.

She glanced at the readings, her eyes widening as she realized that he was right. They didn't have oxygen to waste.

"What is it?" he asked, still not believing her story about the device, but the way her eyes widened told him that whatever she was seeing worried her.

"We need a plan."

* * *

><p>"Sherlock you heard Greg. There isn't anything we can do," John tried.<p>

They'd been there for nearly twenty minutes and during that time Sherlock managed to get into an argument with three of Mycroft's associates, Brooks, two officers, and someone he was fairly sure was a bystander.

"And what do you suggest, John? Go back to Baker Street and wait for someone to call and let me know if my brother is alive or not," Sherlock snapped.

"I think," he began, slowly. "For once, maybe, you should let someone else handle things."

"You mean let that group of incompetent idiots who can't even find an engineering expert take care of the situation?"

"And what's the other option? You're a chemist and a detective, but you're not an engineer."

"Which is precisely why I'm trying to locate one."

"They aren't going to let just anyone in here."

"I'm not an idiot, John," Sherlock snapped. "I'm not going to find just anyone."

John sighed, giving up. His friend was more than worried, though he'd never admit that. Mycroft was his brother and for all their rivalry in the end they were family.

* * *

><p>Rose searched first one pocket and then the other. Not in her jacket. <em>Damn! <em>She felt her jeans.

"Shit!" she snapped.

"I take it from your choice in words that something's amiss," Mycroft said.

"I lost my phone."

She needed to call him because she promised. She knew he couldn't help, not with this. It wasn't a murder or a kidnapping, though she always believed he could do anything he put his mind to. She'd never broken a promise and she wasn't about to start today, not with him.

"Since I believe we're out of the service area it hardly matters," Mycroft replied.

"We don't need to be in a service area."

She sighed. Mycroft watched her for a moment. It seemed to be important to her even though he knew she wouldn't be able to place a call or send a text, not with all that rubble around them, but he couldn't help the strange need he felt to take that resigned look from her face.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile.

"Not that it will do you any good, but you could try mine," he said, handing it over.

She glanced at the phone in his hand and then caught his gaze and the smile she gave him nearly lit up the darkness beyond her torchlight. He felt himself smile in response, but he pulled it back a moment later as he cleared his throat.

She took it and pushed the button at the top to access the screen. He glanced at the bars the same time she did. No service, as he thought. He expected her resigned look to make another appearance, but instead, she turned his phone over and pulled off the back, pointing her torch at it and a moment later she replaced the back and turned his mobile back over. When he looked at the bars he blinked. Full bars. He glanced at the torch that obviously wasn't simply a torch._ Sonic screwdriver. _Could that device actually do everything she claimed?

* * *

><p>"He's an expert," Sherlock shouted. "He might not be your expert, who, might I add, still hasn't made an appearance, but he's only two hours out!"<p>

"This is a matter of national importance and we won't put the life of Mycroft Holmes in the hands of some engineer you located over the internet," Mr. Calvier, the idiot in charge, snapped.

"My brother could bleed to death before your expert gets round to stopping by," Sherlock yelled.

"And you're expert could crush him. The entire structure is unstable."

"What structure? There isn't anything left, but rubble."

"Precisely."

"Sherlock," John shouted, grabbing his friend's arm.

The detective was close to snapping. He could see that and the last thing he wanted was for Sherlock to attack Mr. Calvier, even if John felt like punching the bloke. At that moment Sherlock's mobile rang.

Sherlock nearly threw his phone when it started ringing, well, it was a thought and involved Mr. Calvier's head, but he resisted the urge, hoping that it might be the engineer. He'd left a message sixteen minutes ago.

When he read the name he paused. Mycroft? How could his brother be phoning him? Even if Mycroft managed to survive and wasn't severely injured there was no way service could reach the man under all that debris. He answered the call.

"Mycroft?" he asked, ignoring both the look from John and the one Mr. Calvier gave him.

"Sherlock?" Rose asked.

His eyes snapped to the rubble and for a moment that seemed like hours he couldn't breathe. The only way she could be in possession of Mycroft's phone would be if she were with his brother and Mycroft was trapped under a collapsed building, which meant she was there…_Oh, god_…she was under that, down in the dark, trapped.

John watched the change come over his friend. Sherlock had been upset, concerned, angry, but the look his friend wore at that moment was a look he recognized…complete and utter devastation. It was how he felt when he watched Sherlock plunge to his death from the top of that building all those years ago.

"Sherlock?" she asked again and the concern in her voice drew the breath back into him.

"Rose?" he inquired, her name coming out in a whoosh of air.

"Rose?" John asked, and he knew, his eyes snapped to the rubble. _Oh god. _He just knew. "She's in there."

Sherlock glanced at John, their eyes locking for a moment and then the detective turned back to the rubble.

"Are you all right?" she asked and Sherlock almost laughed.

Laughed because it was so like her. She was trapped under a mountain of rubble and she was worried about him.

"Are you?"

"You know, don't you?"

"Yes. I…I'm outside."

She laughed and he couldn't help smiling, sadly, briefly.

"Outside implies a door, though I'm sure there's one round here somewhere."

"Are you hurt?"

"Nothing that won't heal. Mike's here. You can talk to him if you like." She paused and he was about to decline the offer, choosing to speak with her instead. "Don't be such a girl, Mike. He's your brother." He almost swore he could hear her rolling her eyes. "Mike's too choked with emotion to speak." She laughed and he could hear his brother in the background, not at all pleased with her excuse.

"They're trying to locate an engineer now. I've found one not too far off, two hours at most."

"'S good," she said, but he could hear something in her voice, something that told him two hours was too long.

"What is it?" he asked. She paused and he could hear a weight in that pause, as if she was holding something back. "Rose?"

"'S…um…it's the oxygen. We're trapped in a kind of pocket, rubble all round us, over us, but we're okay. Thing is there's not a lot of air and…"

"And?"

"And we've got about nineteen minutes left before it runs out."

His entire body flooded with panic. Nineteen minutes? Even with a jet he couldn't get the engineer there that soon and that had been the closest one. There had to be someone else. Something they could do.

John watched the panic take hold, panic he hadn't seen since the hound, but this was stronger. Something was wrong, more wrong than Rose being trapped under that rubble.

"Sherlock, what is it?" the doctor asked.

"They're trapped and they're running out of air."

"You've got to do something," John snapped, rounding on Mr. Calvier. "You have to get them out of there now!"

"We're waiting on our engineer," Mr. Calvier insisted.

"Sod your bloody engineer. Get the one Sherlock found. He's closer." John glanced at Sherlock. "How long do they have?"

"Eighteen minutes twelve seconds now."

"Shit!" John started to pace. "Shit!" He eyed Mr. Calvier. "Mycroft has jets. Send one of those-"

"There isn't time," Sherlock said. "Even with a jet it would take forty-seven minutes."

The detective heard Rose laugh on the other end of the line.

"I did warn you about the whole jeopardy friendly thing, yeah?" she said.

He felt his hand tighten on his phone. She was so close, but she might as well be a million miles away. He was there, but he was useless. This wasn't a murder or kidnapping, there was no puzzle to solve.

"I…I don't know what to do," he admitted.

She could hear it in his voice. The fear, the panic, lying just beneath the surface. She closed her eyes, forcing her own fear away. He was Sherlock Holmes and she was _his impossible girl_. Together they could do anything and although they might be separated by distance and an entire building of rubble they were both there. She could do this, find a way. If A wouldn't work and B wouldn't work then why not G or V? There had to be a way.

"Okay," she said, opening her eyes. "Engineer, yeah?"

"There isn't time to get one."

"So we make do. We improvise. You're the engineer."

"Sorry?" both Sherlock and Mycroft said at the same time.

"There are people out there set to dig, yeah?" she asked, ignoring Mike who wore a _there's no way in hell this is going to work look _because if there's one person in all of the universe she believed in it was Sherlock Holmes.

"Yes, but I'm not an engineer. I've no experience. I-"

"Stop telling me what you can't do and let me tell you what I know. I know that you're the most brilliant man in the universe. They just need to know where to dig, how much pressure they can and can't apply. They need to know the math."

"Rose, I…" he paused. She made it sound so simple and perhaps it was, but one mistake and he'd lose her, both of them, but it was her his mind turned to and it would be his fault. "I don't know if I can."

"You can do this, Sherlock. I know you can."

"I…"

"I trust you with my life, with everything, always and forever."

That was all it took. He caught John's gaze.

"Find Greg. Get me a laptop. I need the museum plans and I need to know about the architecture, what building supplies were used and we have," he glanced at his watch, "fourteen minutes thirty-two seconds."

"Right," his friend said before hurrying off.

"I won't allow you to-" Mr. Calvier began.

Sherlock rounded on the man.

"My brother and my wife are trapped under that rubble and at the moment you're the only one standing between them and me. You know who I am, what I'm capable of. So, Mr. Calvier, you need to ask yourself where exactly do you want to be standing?"

Calvier hesitated a moment, eyes shifting and then turned and hurried off. Sherlock focused his attention back on Rose.

"Tell me about the bomb," he said.

"C4, dead-man's switch. It was strapped to a man's chest. He was standing in the far East room," she explained.

"Where were you and Mycroft?"

"We were coming out of the room, running toward the front doors, about three meters out."

* * *

><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**


	19. Not Everyone Can Be Saved Pt3

Because I didn't want to leave you hanging. :)

* * *

><p>"Are you sure you're all right?" John asked into the phone.<p>

Sherlock handed it to him as soon as the laptop arrived, which had taken Greg less than three minutes to set up as soon as the inspector found out who else was buried with Mycroft. John glanced at his friend, watching Sherlock's fingers fly over the keyboard as the detective brought up everything he needed in order to do the calculations. John still wasn't sure about the idea, but it seemed to be their only option.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied.

"A broken ankle is hardly fine, my dear," Mycroft replied and then paused. _My dear? _Must be the lack of oxygen starting to idle his mind.

"Broken ankle?" John inquired.

At that Sherlock paused, glancing at him, but John waved his friend off. Sherlock's brows drew together, but he returned to his research.

"'S fine. Doesn't hurt too much unless I move it and I'm not planning on doing that so, like I said, I'm fine. Mike's got a concussion, but I know what to do for that. Keep him awake, keep him alert. I've got this doctor."

John couldn't help smiling at that. She was brave. More worried about making sure Mycroft didn't succumb to his concussion than her ankle, which he was sure probably hurt like hell.

"You just keep an eye on Sherlock, yeah? I know how he used to…" she paused, glancing at Mike, almost having said something she shouldn't. Mike raised his brow, but she ignored that. "How he is. How he likes to say he's fine when he's not. Just…just keep him busy."

"He's fairly busy at the moment so that's not going to be a problem," John replied.

"I need you…" Rose hesitated. She trusted Sherlock, believed in him, believed that he could do anything, but she knew that sometimes belief wasn't enough, life wasn't a fairytale and sometimes there was no happy ending. She took a breath. "I need you to promise me something."

John could hear the concern in her voice and he also knew Sherlock was listening. He glanced at his friend and then walked off a ways.

"What is it?" he asked when he was sure Sherlock couldn't overhear them.

"If something happens-"

"Don't say that."

He heard her sigh.

"John, I think we both know that sometimes things don't work out the way we want them to, yeah?"

Now it was his turn to sigh. A thought struck him at that instant and for a moment hope welled within him.

"Rose how do you…" he wasn't sure how to ask or if she would tell him, but it was an idea, a way to save her and, he glanced at Sherlock, he was glad his friend couldn't overhear because he wasn't sure if Sherlock had thought about it or if it would even work. "Remember when we were in that building, the one with the serial killer?"

"Serial killer?" she asked, as if she had no idea what he was talking about.

He cursed, remembering that each time they saw her she was younger. Of course she wouldn't remember. _Damn! _

"Sherlock said you could travel in time," he replied, forging on. "I didn't want to believe, I'm still not sure I do, but is that…I mean, is it true?"

She paused for a moment. Sherlock knew about the Vortex Manipulator. She grinned. Of course he did, he was brilliant, probably worked it out almost straight away. She knew where John was going with this. Hell, she'd thought about it herself, but the screen had gone dark, which meant it was damaged.

She could fix it, most likely a lose wire, at least, she hoped that's all it was, but not without the proper tools.

"It's not working," she replied.

The hope inside of John died with those words.

"Shit!"

* * *

><p>Sherlock glanced at his friend who had walked off far enough that the detective couldn't overhear them. He knew what that meant, but he pushed those thoughts aside. He knew everything he needed to know to save her, both of them, all he had to do was run the calculations.<p>

The fear was still there, fear that he would somehow get this wrong, that he would overlook some finite detail, which would be enough to lose her. He took a breath. _I trust you with my life, with everything, always and forever. _

He closed his eyes, picturing the museum, complete and whole, what it looked like before the explosion. He pictured the exhibits, paintings, statues, everything exactly where it had been, something else he'd looked up because each one figured into the calculations.

He entered the museum and he became the man, the man with the bomb strapped to his chest. C4. He entered the room, far East corner of the museum. He was in the room, dead-man's switch in his right hand. Rose and Mycroft were there. She was trying to stay, trying to talk him down because that's what she would do. Mycroft grabbed her and then they were running, out of the room, toward the main doors and he pushed the button.

The building erupted with the force. Paintings, exhibits, statues, walls, nothing was safe, everything was torn apart. Everything became debris. He watched Rose and Mycroft as they were thrown by the force of the explosion, saw where they landed, watched the debris fly toward them, watched the ceiling shake and begin to collapse. The crossbeams falling, the debris flying towards them and that's how they were saved, how they were trapped. Too far to the left or right and they would've been crushed.

* * *

><p>"About that promise John," she said, turning back to their previous conversation. "I need to know that if something happens you'll stay with him, yeah? You and Mary. He'll need both of you."<p>

He knew it wouldn't be enough. That if Sherlock lost both of them, Mycroft and Rose, that even their friendship wouldn't be enough to save the detective, but he didn't voice that.

"Of course," he replied.

"Phone," Sherlock demanded and he nearly jumped out of his skin.

John handed Sherlock's phone over, wondering how long his friend had been there and how much Sherlock overheard. His friend took the phone and pressed it to his ear.

"I know where you are," he said and he could swear he heard her smile.

"See, I told you you could do it," she replied.

There were so many things he wanted to say to her, but there wasn't time. Eight minutes sixteen seconds.

"I can hear your device in the background."

"I'm using it as a torch." She laughed. "One of the most powerful devices in the universe downgraded to torch in the dark."

He couldn't help smiling at that, even with his fear and anxiety, but she had a way of doing that. He took a steadying breath because he knew what he had to say, what he had to do. He'd run the calculations and they had to be perfect, there was no room for error.

"Rose-" he began.

"You need me to get off the phone, yeah? And stop using the sonic. We can't have that margin of error, can we?"

Another soft smile crept over his lips. She knew. Of course she knew. She was clever, had always been clever.

"Rose, I…" he wanted to say it, but the words wouldn't come.

"Me too," she replied, as if she knew what he was going to say and she probably did and then she hung up.

He stood there for a moment.

"Sherlock," John said and his mind snapped back into place.

"Come on," he instructed, pocketing his phone and heading over to the workers.

He had two people to save and there wasn't much time left.

* * *

><p>Mycroft had been watching and listening through the entire conversation, well, both conversations since she had been chatting with John as well. <em>Sherlock's wife, <em>but there was no evidence and the only people who seemed to know her were his brother and John.

When he ran her image it came back with a few matches, other images from cameras here and there, but no history, no name, no background. She had the ring. He noticed it before the blast, but it wasn't _the _ring. A copy, even if it was an excellent copy.

He thought it was a ruse, but now, after her conversation… He couldn't deny the fact that she was in love with his brother, but was Sherlock in love with her? He'd known his brother to become infatuated, but _love_? Well, Sherlock had always been prone to emotions.

"You need me to get off the phone, yeah? And stop using the sonic. We can't have that margin of error, can we?" she asked.

Mycroft's eyes snapped to her. Stop using the sonic? That would leave them immersed in complete darkness. His chest constricted, but he forced the feeling aside. They had light at the moment. Surely that device wouldn't allow that much margin of error. His rational mind told him that any margin of error could throw off the calculations enough to kill them, but the panic, horrid, irrational thing that it was wouldn't listen.

As soon as she hung up she gave Mike a glance. He was staring at the sonic. She knew he heard her and she also knew how he felt about small dark spaces and why they made him panic. It was a secret he carried, one that Sherlock didn't even know because she promised Mike she wouldn't tell anyone and she always kept her promises.

She'd gotten him through this once and she knew she could do it again, but he didn't know that she knew about his secret. She couldn't let on, otherwise things would turn out differently in the future and she couldn't chance changing that.

Mycroft watched her release the button. The noise ceased as the darkness enveloped him, pressing against him with a weight that drew the air from his lungs. The panic was there, claiming him, taking over all logic and reason. Then he felt something…foreign.

He glanced down, panic having nearly consumed him. His hand. There was something touching his hand.

"Sorry," she said, her voice next to him. "It's…um…I'm not really good in the dark."

"Fear of the dark is an irrational, childish fear," he relied, his voice sounding strange and he knew that was the emotion, the panic and he mutely cursed himself for allowing it to gain control of him.

She could hear the fear in his voice, though he'd never admit it. She laced her fingers through his because she knew the contact would help, make him realize he wasn't alone.

"Yeah, well, we can't all have the same control."

"I suppose."

She didn't ask if he minded because given the choice he would choose whatever made him seem stronger. He never liked showing weakness, ever the older brother.

"It could be worse," she said.

He glanced at her, though he couldn't actually see her.

"We're trapped in the dark," at those words the panic threatened to return and it made him realize that, for a moment, it had actually departed. "My brother's in charge of the rescue mission and we're running out of air. How could it possibly be worse?"

"We could be stuck down here with Mrs. Hudson."

"Sorry?" he asked, completely taken back by her comment.

Was she actually having a lark? They could very well die and she was joking?

"She'd probably offer to make us tea," Rose continued, as she'd done last time they were trapped together when he actually told her about his fear. "She reminds me of my mum that way. Near death experience? Have some tea. Your friend's lying in the bed in the next room dying? Here's a cuppa. Trapped under a collapsed building and running out of air? Tea'll make it all better dear, have a cup."

He felt himself chuckle and then paused, glancing at her, though he still couldn't see her. He usually found chatty individuals annoying, but she was alleviating the situation, turning his mind away from the panic. How was she able to do that?

"Yes, well, that's very British of her," he replied after a moment.

She laughed.

"She'd like that."

She was revealing information about herself. Information he needed in order to discover who she was and if she was indeed his brother's wife he needed to learn everything.

"Where is your mother?" he inquired.

"She's gone," she said, using the word that was the best way to describe the truth.

She had, in fact, been the one to leave, but her parents and her brother were back on Pete's World. She knew when she left she'd never be able to see them again, but everyone leaves home eventually and she couldn't stay there any longer. Not after everything that happened.

"Gone," he replied. "But not dead."

She grinned.

"Pair of geniuses. You and you're brother." She paused, trying to work out how she could tell him and what she could tell him. "I left because I couldn't stay there anymore because…because something happened and I had to leave and where they are its…not somewhere I can return to. I know it's not much of an explanation, but it's the most I can say. 'S complicated."

Mycroft processed her words. Her parents were in a place she had to leave and now she couldn't return. It left a host of possible scenarios open and he didn't like not knowing, but he could pursue that later. If he learned enough information about her he could get the files. Find out what happened. Yes, that seemed a more promising option.

A bit of dust rained down from above and Rose felt Mike's hand tighten in hers. She put her free hand on his arm and rested her head on his shoulder, something that she knew would draw his attention.

"That would be your brother digging us out," she said.

Mycroft could hear the admiration in her voice. She really was in love with Sherlock.

"You have quite a lot faith in my little brother," he replied.

"He's been there for me from the beginning."

"Beginning? Beginning of what?"

"He's never let me down and there aren't many people I can say that about."

His brows narrowed. She was purposely being evasive. More dust rained down and his chest constricted once more. Then a bit of debris broke loose. He heard it fall and a moment later she cried out.

He grabbed her arm with his free hand as her hand tightened in his.

"Are you all right?" he asked, hearing the concern in his own voice and finding it quite strange.

"Yeah…I…it hit my sore ankle 's all," she replied.

"It could have caused further damage."

The rubble above them shifted and he found himself pulling her closer, protectively while, at the same time, his rational mind tried to make sense of exactly why he would do that. It settled on the lack of air. Small bits of debris and dust rained down and then he could feel a breeze as outside sounds assailed him.

* * *

><p>Sherlock shone the torch into the uncovered hole. He spotted his brother first, hunched over to the left, one arm wrapped around... He nearly shouted at Mycroft to get his damn hands of her, but he knew that for some strange reason his brother had been protecting her. Though, that idea didn't sit very well with him either.<p>

Mike sat up, pulling her into a sitting position with him. He released his hand and she blinked up into the late afternoon light and the torch that was being shone down into the area she and Mike had been trapped in. Her eyes fell on the one man who'd always been there.

"Most brilliant man in the universe," she said with a grin.

He smiled in return.

"Can you stand up? It's only a meter down. If you can I can pull you out," he asked, pocketing the torch as he lay down, preparing to reach inside and pull her out.

"I think so, yeah," she replied.

"Her ankle may be broken, Sherlock," Mycroft said.

"Then help her," he instructed.

"Put your hand on my shoulder, keep weight off your ankle as much as possible," Mycroft said, taking her waist hand helping her stand. She hissed in pain as she stood up.

Sherlock reached down as she stood up. She raised her hands and he took one in each of his, pulling her up.

"John," he said and his friend reached down, helping so he could sit up while they extracted her.

A moment later she was out, her arms around his neck and his around her waist as they sat on their knees. She rested her head on his shoulder and he held her, his cheek against her hair and his pulse finally began to settle. She was alive and at that moment that's all that mattered.

"I hate to break up your happy reunion-" Mycroft began.

Rose pulled away from Sherlock, though he really didn't want to let her go. She glanced down in the hole.

"Oh, my god, Mike, I'm so sorry," she said.

"Quite all right, my dear. I lay the blame for my forgotten situation squarely on my little brother's shoulders."

_My dear? _Sherlock didn't at all like the endearment or the fact that his brother was using it when referring to Rose, but he pushed that aside, knowing she would never let him leave Mycroft down there, not that he would leave his brother down there forever just…for a bit.


	20. Not Everyone Can Be Saved - Aferward

John helped Rose out of the cab, but in the next moment Sherlock's arms were around her and she was swooped off the ground. She laughed, she couldn't help it and she heard John chuckling.

"I'm fine. Really," she protested, but it was lost in the grin she wore.

"You've been injured. You're hardly fine," he insisted.

"'S just a sprain," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck for leverage.

He caught her gaze as he carried her to the door, waiting while John unlocked and opened the door.

"_Severely_ sprained, according to the physician."

She rolled her eyes, though she wasn't really irritated. She heard John chuckle again, opening the door and stepping inside. Then she was inside, but before Sherlock could begin carrying her up the stairs they were stopped by a concerned Mrs. Hudson.

"Oh, my, what happened, dear?" the woman asked.

"It's just-" Rose began.

"She has a severe sprain to her right ankle."

"Goodness," Mrs. Hudson gasped. "I'll bring up some tea and biscuits."

Rose couldn't help laughing as she thought back to her conversation with Mike.

"That would be lovely," she replied as Sherlock turned back and began his ascent.

John opened the door and she was gingerly place on the sofa.

"Pillows," Sherlock ordered and John ran off to fulfill the request.

"I'd rather sit up, if it's all the same."

In the next moment the coffee table was relieve of half its clutter, but as soon as she tried to shift her position he was there helping her and it made her laugh. At that moment John returned with the pillows and Sherlock took them placing them on the coffee table under her injured ankle. She caught John's gaze and grinned, her friend shook his head, sporting a smirk.

Her attention turned to the open door as she heard someone walking up the stairs.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Sherlock snapped, eyes training on the open door.

"Who?" John asked, but in the next moment Mycroft appeared, stepping into the room.

"Mike," Rose beamed and John caught the glare as Sherlock's eyes narrowed.

John resisted the urge to chuckle, but he couldn't suppress the amused smile. He knew his friend could be jealous, but he'd never seen it over a woman. He caught the look in Rose's eyes that told him she could see it too.

"What do you want, Mycroft?" Sherlock snapped, eyes darting to the bag of takeout and then he knew. Why the hell hadn't he thought about that? It'd been nearly three hours since she was trapped and he had no idea how long it'd been before that since she ate. His eyes turned back to his older brother. Why the hell did Mycroft even care?

Before he could ask another interruption in the form of Mrs. Hudson appeared, carrying a tray with tea and biscuits. The woman sat the tray down and set to work on a cup of tea for Rose.

"Hello, Mycroft," Mrs. Hudson greeted.

"Mrs. Hudson," Mycroft replied.

The woman picked up the cup and handed it Rose with a smile.

"Here you are dear. That'll help."

"Thank you," Rose replied and then caught Mike's eye, grinning and the moment Mrs. Hudson left, closing the door behind she burst out laughing.

Sherlock's eyes shot from Rose to his chuckling brother. What the hell were they laughing at? They were sharing a joke and he didn't like that, didn't like the fact that they were sharing something he wasn't part of.

"I thought you might be hungry, my dear," the elder Holmes said after she stopped laughing, crossing the room toward her.

She smiled in that way that could light up a room and, as Sherlock watched, Mycroft returned her smile. He didn't like this situation at all.

"You're brilliant," she exclaimed.

Sherlock's eyes snapped to her. Brilliant? No, no, she wasn't supposed to refer to his brother as brilliant. That's what she called him. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked over to his laptop.

John watched his friend revert to sulking. He shook his head again, trying and failing at not smiling and he very nearly laughed, but turned it into a cough, but he caught Sherlock's glance and knew his friend had caught it.

"I wasn't sure where your taste lies, but I thought a spot of fish and chips wouldn't go amiss," Mycroft said, handing over the bag.

"Oh, my god," she exclaimed, taking the bag and grinning. "You're gorgeous!"

John caught the way Sherlock's hands twitched as his friend's eyes darted from Mycroft to Rose and then back to the computer screen.

"Yes. Well," the elder Holmes replied, sporting his own grin and John nearly choked as he realized, glancing from Mycroft to Rose…_No! _

At that moment everyone in the room looked at him and John realized he'd said that out loud.

"I'm sorry?" Mycroft asked.

"Oh, um…nothing," John replied.

The elder Holmes brows narrowed for a moment and then the man focused back on Rose.

"Buying you dinner was the least I could do after…what you did for me."

Sherlock's eyes snapped to his brother, boring holes into Mycroft. _What she did for him? _What the hell did that mean? What _exactly _went on between them while they were trapped…in the dark…together?

Rose sighed and the sound of it overpowered the demon of jealousy that was living inside Sherlock's chest.

"'S my fault he was there, Mike." Her eyes clouded over and Sherlock was on his feet closing the distance between them. "You nearly getting killed, us being trapped…all those people-"

"You're not responsible-" Sherlock began.

She turned her tearful gaze on him and his chest seized with concern.

"No, 's my fault-"

"The bomber made choice, Rose," he said, bending down and taking her hands.

"Danny." Sherlock's brows drew together. "His name was Danny. He'd lost someone and he…he needed someone to blame for that and, yeah, it was his choice, but I…I'm the reason he was there, in that museum. 'S my fault."

"Rose," Mycroft said and she turned her gaze to him. "I'm not going to pretend that I understand anything about you," Sherlock's brows drew together as he turned a withering gaze on Mycroft. His brother was suspicious of her and the last thing she needed was Mycroft tearing into her life, trying to weed out her secrets. "…but even if you physically brought him there you hold no blame for his actions." Sorry…what? "He chose to build that device. He chose to wear it. He chose to activate it. You tried to save him, though for the life of me I can't understand why, but you did. He was beyond even your help I'm afraid." Mycroft gazed at her for a moment and then seemed to come back to himself. "Now, I will take my leave, but I will drop by tomorrow and make sure my little brother doesn't, once again, forget that you require sustenance."

With that he turned and strode from the room.

"He's right," Sherlock was loathe to admit it, but he knew how much she cared and that, she would, likely, blame herself for all the people who died and he didn't want that for her.

"I brought him here," she said, squeezing his hands.

"With the Vortex Manipulator," he deduced. "Why?"

"Well…it…it wasn't on purpose. He grabbed my arm and then we were there."

"So, it wasn't your fault."

"I…"

"Rose," he said, catching her gaze. "It wasn't your fault. Now," he continued, to force her focus on something else. He glanced at the device on her wrist. "I'll have that."

"Sorry?" she asked.

"It was obviously damaged in the explosion and I'd rather not have you wearing a damaged and possibly unstable time travel device. We'll have a look at it after you've had some time to rest and recover."

"I…" she paused, wondering what he meant by that. "I can't stay."

"For good, yes, I realize that, but you can stay long enough to get some rest and recover your strength," he replied, making sure she understood it wasn't a question.

He was concerned for her and, truth be told, he didn't want her to leave at all, but he knew she had to…eventually, but not yet. He nearly lost her today and the emotions were still there. The fear, the panic and at the moment he couldn't let her out of his site. It simply wasn't an option.

"All right, yeah," she agreed with a smile, giving his hands one last squeeze before releasing him. "But only if John agrees to play a round of Cluedo with us."

Wait. What? The doctor glanced at her. Why the hell was he being drug into this?

"No, no," John protested, shaking his head. "I'm never playing Cluedo with him again."

"Please?" she asked, giving him her best pleading look, but it was Sherlock who chimed in first.

"John, you're playing and that's final," the detective replied before dashing back to his room to retrieve the game.

The doctor sighed.

"You did that on purpose," John accused.

"'Course I did," she replied with a grin.

* * *

><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**


	21. Domestic Bliss Pt1

Sherlock sat in his chair as evening gave way to early morning. Sleep never crossed his mind, not for him at least. Rose was asleep in his bed with her ankle propped up. His _wife_.

The word was still foreign, but he couldn't deny his feelings for her changed over time. Caring, sentiment. That wasn't him, but no, that wasn't entirely true. He cared for John, for Mrs. Hudson, for Lestrade, even for Mary, but that was different. What he felt for Rose was…foreign. Strange.

_Weakness._

The word that rang through his mind wasn't spoken by him or Mycroft, but by another.

_She's a weakness, Sherlock._

He could almost see Moriarty's twisted smile.

"Shut up," he growled.

Moriarty was dead for a second time. The man was gone, but still he haunted the detective.

_We're alike. You and I._

He wanted to believe it wasn't true. That whatever Rose thought she saw in him was real. That he wasn't the monster that other people saw. He was different than he had been. He knew that and he knew it was because of John, but he wasn't an angel.

_You're on the side of the angels, but you're not one of them._

He closed his eyes and tried to banish Moriarty from his mind. Instead, he found himself standing on that rooftop with the man. Moriarty grinned at him.

"That's what she is Sherlock. She's an angel." Another grin. "You can see that, can't you?"

"So?" he snapped, glaring down at the man.

"She's all light." Moriarty looked him over. "And you're all…dark."

He was right, of course, but that didn't matter.

"I can…change," Sherlock replied, hesitating because he knew the truth.

Moriarty laughed at that.

"Oh, my dear Sherlock, you can put on the costume, play pretend, but you and I, we know, don't we? We know you'd be playing dress up. That underneath that sheep costume you'd still be a wolf."

"She-"

"What?" Moriarty interrupted. "Loves you." He smirked again, eyes gazing over the detective. "She's naive. She sees what she wants."

"I don't care," he snapped, glaring at the man.

Moriarty smiled in return.

"Of course not and neither would I, but for different reasons." The man gave him a disdainful look. "You want to believe what she sees. Oh, how much you've changed, Sherlock." The detective watched Moriarty from the corner of his eye as the man walked around him. "You want to be all _domestic_ with her."

That's not what he wanted. It was true that they had a daughter…would have a daughter in the future, but that wasn't what he wanted…was it?

"I-" he began to protest.

"Don't try to deny it, Sherlock. I can see it." Moriarty stopped in front of him, a disgusted look on his face. "You're so boring. Look at you." His eyes roved over the detective. "God, you're so _ordinary_."

Moriarty vanished with the sound of a tray being sat down next to Sherlock. He blinked, readjusting to his surroundings. Baker Street. His flat. He was sitting in his chair. He glanced at Mrs. Hudson who was making him a cuppa.

"Did you get any sleep at all?" she was asking.

"I'm fine, Mrs. Hudson," he replied a bit snappish in his irritation with Moriarty who was in fact not Moriarty.

"Here's your tea, dear," she said, handing over a cup and saucer.

He could see that she wasn't pleased with his attitude.

"Right." He shouldn't have snapped at her. It wasn't her fault, but, of course, he couldn't apologize. "Thank you."

Her eyes softened.

"It's all right, dear. I understand."

"Understand?" he asked, not entirely sure what she was getting at.

"Almost losing someone you love."

She sat down in John's chair, but he wasn't paying attention to that. He was stuck on what she said.

"Someone I love?"

"Rose," she replied, as if it were obvious. "She's very sweet. Wherever did you meet her?"

He rolled his eyes.

"I do not _love_ her," he replied, taking a drink of his tea.

Mrs. Hudson smiled.

"Deny it all you want, Sherlock. Anyone can see it's true."

"Anyone's an idiot."

She laughed making him glare.

"She loves you too, you know." That he knew. He couldn't deny it. "I'm just glad someone else can see it."

"See what?"

She smiled.

"You're a good boy, Sherlock, even if you don't want to believe it."

_Delusional. The lot of them._

He drew his brows together at the sound of Moriarty's voice, but before he could respond another sound reached him. He rolled his eyes as he lowered his cup.

"Oh, what the hell is he doing here again?" Sherlock snapped.

Mrs. Hudson stood up as Mycroft entered the room. Sherlock glared at him.

"Good morning to you too, brother dear," the elder Holmes greeted, having overheard Sherlock as he entered the room.

"Good morning, Mycroft," Mrs. Hudson said as the man stepped past her to take John's seat.

"Mrs. Hudson," he returned.

"Don't you have something better to do?" Sherlock snapped.

"What would be more important than visiting my little brother?" Mycroft asked.

"I'm not _little_ Mycroft."

"You are in a mood. Domestic bliss not as blissful as you thought?"

The elder Holmes smirked.

"Mycroft Holmes," Mrs. Hudson admonished as she handed him a cuppa.

"What?" the elder Holmes asked as if he didn't say anything wrong.

"You know perfectly well that your brother's upset because Rose nearly died," she snapped.

"I'm not upset," Sherlock snapped.

"Clearly," Mycroft replied.

The detective rolled his eyes.

"You should be more sensitive," she said.

"I'm fine, Mrs. Hudson," he growled.

"Of course you are, dear."

He rolled his eyes again.

"Don't you have a program to get back to?" he snapped, glaring at her.

"Fine," she replied, "but I'll be back to check on things in a bit."

She walked over to the door and exited. Now to get rid of Mycroft.

"Why are you here?"

"I came by to check on her, of course."

"She's no concern of yours."

"Oh, but that's where your wrong, Sherlock."

The detective raised his brow.

"Sorry?"

"I have been wondering about something," Mycroft said, choosing not to answer Sherlock's question.

"And what is that, exactly?"

Mycroft wore a dangerous look, well, one that could be dangerous, especially when speaking about Rose. It was both curious and knowing and didn't sit well with the detective.

"I've seen the ring on her finger, but where is yours?"

Sherlock's eyes snapped to his hand, which was devoid of a ring because, of course, he hadn't married Rose…yet.

"I-" he began, trying to craft a lie quickly.

"Careful, brother dear, you've never been good at deceiving me. Remember, I'm the smart one," Mycroft replied with a grin.

He opened his mouth to shoot of a scathing reply when the sound of Rose's voice calling his name stopped him. He sat his cup down and stood up to cross the room. To his displeasure, he heard Mycroft following.

* * *

><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**


	22. Domestic Bliss Pt2

Since it's been a while I thought I'd put up two today. So here's a bit more domestics for you. Also, this story will be taking some pretty surprising twists later on so I hope you're prepared for that. :)

* * *

><p>Rose opened her eyes. She was in her room…but there was something off. She sat up and <em>hissed<em> as pain flared up her leg. Then she remembered. The building. The explosion. Mike. _Shit! _She wasn't in her room, well, she was, but this was before.

She shouldn't have stayed. She should've left. Staying was dangerous. If she revealed things too soon she could jeopardize everything and staying with the one man who could get her to talk…_stupid! Stupid! _What the hell was she thinking?

She reached for her Vortex Manipulator only to remember that Sherlock took it. Of course he took it. It was her only way out. _Damn! _She had to find it and get out of there before something happened.

She pulled back the covers and, slowly, swung around so she could stand up, but the moment she tried she wound up sitting back down on the bed. Her ankle throbbed. She sighed. There was only one thing she could do, she'd have to make Sherlock give the device back, but this was Sherlock before. The one who didn't have all the answers and if there's one thing she knew about her husband it was that he hated not knowing. She sighed again. There was nothing for it.

"Sherlock," she called.

She heard him hurrying toward the room. She could do it, talking him into it, but she had to be careful. Unfortunately it wasn't just Sherlock who stepped into the room. Mike was there too.

"Are you all right, my dear?" Mike asked, concern evident on both his and Sherlock's faces.

She smiled, even though she was worried and trying to work a way out of there because they were her family.

"Yeah, sorry, I…um…" She glanced from one to the other finally settling on Mike. She couldn't talk to Sherlock with his brother in the room. "Is there tea?"

"Um…yes, I…believe so," Mike stammered, obviously confused by her shift.

"I could really use a cuppa," she implored all big hazel eyes and a pleading grin.

Mycroft did _not_ do domestics. He did _not_ fetch tea for other people, but one look in her eyes and he found his willpower to resist completely drained.

"Of course, my dear," he replied, walking from the room, trying to figure out exactly how she managed to do that.

Sherlock watched his brother walk across the kitchen. He would've smiled if he wasn't battling with a green eyed monster that wondered why Rose asked Mycroft to provide her tea. After all she slept in _his _bed. She was _his _wife. Wait. What the hell was he thinking?

"Sherlock," she said, gently and every train of thought ceased as he turned his attention to her. "I…really do appreciate everything you've done."

"It was nothing," he replied, returning the smile she wore.

"But…" at that his brows drew together because he had a suspicion about what was coming next and he was having none of that. "I…think it's time."

"No."

"Sorry?" she asked, surprised by the force in his voice.

"It's far too soon for you to…travel."

What? Sherlock, the Sherlock she knew, never told her she couldn't do something. That was one of the differences between him and the Doctor. He never told her it wasn't safe or that she shouldn't wonder off.

"It's not really traveling," she protested. He raised his brow. "Fine it is, but not that way. I mean it's a Vortex Manipulator not a treadmill."

"An unstable Vortex Manipulator and it's not working anyway. You said so yourself."

"I can fix it. All I have to do is take a look at it."

"Which you can do once you've recovered."

Oh, that was it. She'd had about enough of this Sherlock. Pompous, arrogant sod that he was.

"You can't tell me what I can and can't do! Who the hell do you think you are?" she yelled jumping to her feet and then realizing what a bad idea that was as she fell back on the bed with a squeal of pain. Sherlock crossed the room in two strides intent on helping her, but she pulled away. "If you're not going to help me then leave me alone!"

"I'm your husband and I know what's best for you. If you weren't so stubborn you'd see that!" he yelled.

She was being completely unreasonable. She was injured and there was no way in hell he was letting her use that device, even if she managed to fix it she could wind up anywhere and she couldn't defend herself in the state she was in. Why couldn't she see that?

"You're not my husband," she snapped, her cheeks flushing in anger. "My husband wouldn't tell me I couldn't do something. He never did!"

"Then he's an idiot!"

"He's being an idiot right now!"

"Tea?" Mycroft asked, stepping into the room, purposely trying to interrupt their argument that he was fairly sure could be heard halfway down the block.

"We don't need your bloody tea!" Sherlock shouted.

"Leave Mike alone!" Rose yelled.

"He's my brother!"

"And you're being a blood wanker!"

"Then maybe I should just leave!"

"Maybe you should!"

At that Sherlock stalked out of the room, through the kitchen, grabbed his coat and opened the door almost colliding with John and Mary.

"Sherlock," John said, taking in his friend's heated look. "Is-"

"She's in my bedroom with Mycroft," Sherlock snapped before striding past Mary and down the stairs.

"Did he just say in his bedroom with Mycroft?" Mary asked.

"Yeah, I think he did," John replied.

* * *

><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**If you have time reviews are always welcome. :)**


	23. Domestic Bliss Pt3

Rose was still fuming two hours later, this time from the couch. John checked her over when he first arrived with Mary and then helped her into the living room, propping up her ankle before he asked about Sherlock. Her temper hadn't cooled off so she had no qualms telling John exactly how Sherlock was being a right prick keeping her there against her will like some bloody wanker.

John wasn't at all happy with that and took off to find his friend and have a nice long chat with him. Mary stayed behind to keep her company because Mike was called off on some errand of government importance.

At the moment Mary was in the kitchen putting together another icepack while Mrs. Hudson made Rose a cuppa.

"Here you are, dear, a nice cup of tea. That'll cheer you up," she said, handing Rose the cup.

"Damn the tea!" Rose yelled, startling Mrs. Hudson.

"Sorry," she apologized, feeling bad as she took the cup. "It's just…he's such a bloody idiot sometimes."

"I know dear," Martha said, offering a smile. "I had a husband once too, you know."

"Frank, wasn't it?" she asked, remembering a previous conversation…no, future conversation, well, future for her.

"That's right. Did Sherlock tell you about him?"

"Oh," Rose paused, realizing her mistake. "Um…yeah, he must have."

Martha nodded and she breathed a sigh of relief.

"The fights we had, but you know the best part, don't you?"

"What's that?" she asked, taking a drink of her tea.

"The makeup sex of course."

Rose spit her tea halfway across the room and then choked for a moment. This was not the conversation she wanted to have with the woman she thought of as her second mum.

"Are you all right, dear?" Martha asked in concern.

"Yeah," she wheezed, "Just…um…" another cough, "went down the wrong way."

"Here's you ice," Mary said, laying the bag on Rose's ankle.

"You should've seen him," Martha said, sitting down next to Rose. "Drugs and running around aside Frank was-"

"Mrs. Hudson," Mary cut in. Martha paused, looking at her. "Don't you have a roast on?"

"Oh, my," Martha stood. "I completely forgot." She hurried out the door.

"Thank you," Rose said after the door closed.

"Anytime," Mary replied with a grin.

She wasn't sure what to expect when she asked if John would bring her along, but she had to admit that she really liked Rose. She knew about the bombing, had talked to John on the phone because she was worried about Sherlock. Even though his relationship with Mycroft was strained they were brothers and, even if Sherlock wouldn't admit it, he cared.

When John got home late last night she could tell he was hiding things. He was acting too strange and he'd never been good at hiding things from her so she finally got some of the story out, though she knew he was holding back. What she got was enough to confuse and intrigue her. A wife. Sherlock had a wife and one that he never mentioned, nor had John mentioned. Well, she had to meet her.

Even though she wasn't sure what to expect Rose was definitely not what she expected. Although the woman was upset with Sherlock, for good reason, she seemed genuinely kind. The sort that laughed easily.

"I'm sorry I'm not really myself right now," Rose apologized.

"There's no need to be sorry. I'd be upset if someone tried to tell me what to do," Mary replied.

"He's not normally like that."

"You did almost die yesterday." Rose glanced at her. "Not that it's an excuse for his behavior, but…he's worried and probably scared and for Sherlock-"

"That equals right prick."

"Exactly," Mary replied with a grin and Rose couldn't help returning it. "He's not used to caring."

"He cares about you and John and Martha."

"But it's different when you…" Mary trailed off not sure if she should voice it. John said they were married, but it was still strange to talk like that about Sherlock.

"When you're in love with someone," Rose finished.

"Right."

Rose took a drink of her tea. This was awkward. Mary…Mary in the future was her best friend, but this Mary, this one just met her. There were a thousand things she wanted to say, but none of them could be said to _her_.

* * *

><p>John found Sherlock in the last place he checked, which, now that he thought about it, should've been the first place he checked. Sherlock didn't look up from the microscope, but he was sure his friend knew he was there.<p>

"Hi, John," Molly said, drawing up next to him.

"How long's he been here?" he asked, nodding at Sherlock.

"Oh, I dunno…a couple hours," she replied.

"Of course," he snapped, taking a step forward, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"He's in a mood."

"That makes two of us."

Although John only met Rose a few times those few times had been over the course of six months, well, if he counted the first, which was the day she died. He pushed that thought away not liking to dwell on it. The point was he thought of her as a friend and she was one of the nicest people he ever met. Sherlock was being an arse and he was having none of that.

"Did you two have a fight?"

"We're about to."

John crossed the room and stopped on the other side of the counter, folding his arms and glaring at his friend.

Sherlock, for his part, ignored his friend. He gave John a glance when the man first stepped into the room, noted the tense muscles and irritated look he wore. As the seconds ticked by Sherlock's own irritation took hold. He sighed, glancing up.

"What?" he snapped.

"Well done," John replied.

Sherlock's brows drew together as he tried to work out what his friend was referring to.

"Sorry?"

"Once again you've put your own selfish needs above everyone else and damn the consequences."

His eyes flicked back and forth. What the hell was John talking about?

"Me? My needs?"

"Right," John snapped as if Sherlock understood what he meant, which he didn't.

"What the hell are you going on about?"

John sighed. Of course he didn't understand. He was too bloody thick headed to understand. Show him a murder and he could solve it within minutes, give him human emotion and he was lost.

"Rose."

"What about her?"

"Not letting her leave. Taking that," John glanced at Molly and noted that she seemed to be listening as she pretended to go over some reports a few paces away so he bent close and whispered the last bit, "device away. Hiding it. You can't do that."

"I can and I did," Sherlock replied, crossing his own arms.

"You have no right to do that to her," John snapped.

"I have every right. She's my wife if you-"

The sound of metal clattering to the floor interrupted him. He glanced over and watched Molly bend down to pick up the clipboard she'd been holding.

"Sorry," she apologized. "I…um…sorry."

He rolled his eyes.

"I don't care if she's the bloody Queen-"

"Don't be an idiot, John," he snapped. "I wouldn't have taken away the Queen's…" he glanced at Molly who seemed to be paying particular attention to their conversation for some reason. "Device."

"Exactly."

His eyes snapped to John.

"Sorry?"

"You wouldn't treat the Queen like servant you can order about, but you'll treat _her _like that."

"I'm not treating her like a servant. It isn't safe for her to travel. As soon as she's recovered-"

"She has a sprained ankle, Sherlock. She's perfectly fine to travel so don't use that as an excuse."

"What do you mean by that?" he snapped, standing up.

"You know perfectly well what I mean by that, but you can't keep her here forever."

He wasn't going to keep her there forever…just for a bit. Until her ankle healed. A week, maybe two. Wait. He eyed John.

"If you're here where's Mary?"

"With Rose. I couldn't leave her on her own, not after you upset her."

"On her own? Where's Mycroft?"

"He left a few hours ago."

"You left her alone with Mary for a few hours?"

Rose was clever and she knew him better than Mary did, but she was injured so he doubted she could get to the device. She'd likely work out where he put it though. Mary was clever too and she was on John's side. If his friend cared this much for Rose then Mary would likely…he grabbed his coat and crossed the room quickly as he shrugged into it.

"Where are you going?" John called.

"Back to Baker Street," Sherlock replied as he reached the doors and stepped out.

John wanted to believe he talked some sense into Sherlock, but he very much doubted it. He pulled out his phone and sent Mary a warning text.

"Um…John," Molly said and he looked up to find her standing in front of him.

"Yeah?" he asked, wanting to get back to Sherlock's flat before the explosion that he knew was coming in the form of an irritated detective.

"Did you, I mean, I probably misheard you," she laughed nervously, "but did you say Sherlock's wife?"

"Yeah," he replied.

"His wife?"

His phone chimed and he read Molly's text.

_Where did you find him?_

_-MW_

"Yeah," he replied, absentmindedly as he typed a reply.

"But…I mean…when did they-"

"Sorry, Molly, I have to go," John said, hurrying out of the room.

Molly stood there in disbelief as the door swung closed.

"Get married," she finished.

* * *

><p>"You were right," Mary said, stepping from the kitchen into the living room with Rose's Vortex Manipulator in her hand.<p>

"Thank you so much," Rose replied, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight.

"He's got three guns and a matchbox hidden in that crawlspace."

Rose paused.

"You didn't open the matchbox did you?"

"No," Mary replied handing the Vortex Manipulator over. "Why?"

"Just…don't," she caught Mary's gaze. "Seriously."

"Um…okay."

"Can you hand me my jacket off the back of his chair?"

Mary turned around and grabbed the jacket and handed it over. She knew Sherlock took something that belonged to Rose, something the woman referred to as _the device_. John seemed to know what she was talking about and that's what made him angry enough to go looking for the detective. She agreed to help Rose find it mainly to see what it was, but she didn't have any more of an idea now that she'd seen it.

It appeared to be some sort of computer device that attached to the wrist. Leather, but with a screen in the middle. She fiddled with it before she brought it out, but the screen was dark so either there was some hidden way to access it or it wasn't working.

"What is that anyway?" Mary asked as she sat down next to Rose who had taken the screen off exposing a few wires.

Rose glanced at her. She didn't want to lie. Mary was her best friend…or would be.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"I think you'd be surprised what I'd believe."

Rose grinned, she couldn't help it.

"Yeah, I think you're right, but this goes way beyond your life…or should I say the life you used to have."

Mary's smile slid from her face.

"What do you mean?"

Rose saw the fear and that bit of danger that always lay below Mary's surface.

"I know…about all of it."

She knew? Did Sherlock tell her? Would he?

"How?"

Rose sighed. There was no getting around it. She'd have to tell Mary the truth.

"I know because you told me."

"No I didn't. I haven't met you before today."

"And you're right about that, but I've met you." Mary stared at her and Rose could tell the woman didn't believe a word she said. "You and I, we're friends. Actually, you're my best friend, but not now."

She pulled the sonic out of the pocket of her jacket. Mary eyed it suspiciously.

"What's that?"

"It's my screwdriver," Rose replied.

"That doesn't look like a screwdriver."

Rose pushed the button and Mary nearly jumped at the warbling sound. Rose grinned.

"'S sonic." She pointed it at the exposed wires and pressed the button then she looked at the reading. Mary leaned closer so she showed the woman. "There."

"It says one of the wires shorted out," Mary read and then glanced at Rose. "How does it do that?"

"I wanted to know what was wrong and it told me."

"What?"

"Here," Rose handed her sonic over knowing Mary wasn't going to trust her until she started believing her. She glanced around the room. "See the lamp there on Sherlock's desk?"

"Yeah."

"Point it at that and want it to turn on, then hold the button down." Mary glanced at her like she was a nutter. Rose smiled. "Just do it."

Mary did as instructed. The sonic warbled and then the lamp turned on.

"That…" Mary glanced at the sonic then Rose. "How is that possible?"

"It shouldn't be. I know, but then I shouldn't be able to travel in time and here I am."

Mary nearly dropped the sonic as she handed it back.

"Sorry…what?"

At that moment Mary's phone chimed. She picked it up, still distracted by the device and Rose's statement, which couldn't possibly be true, but then there was the device.

_Sherlock's on his way._

_-JW_

"What is it?" Rose asked.

"It's um…" Mary glanced at her. "Sherlock, he's, um, on his way back."

"Bollocks!" That didn't leave much time. "Where's he coming from?"

Mary typed in the question and hit send. A moment later John replied.

"Barts."

"We only have fifteen minutes if the traffic's good. Can you get me a wire?"

"From where?"

"Third drawer from the icebox."

Rose watched her stand up and walk across the room. She knew her friend would need more of an explanation, but there wasn't a lot of time so she'd have to work and explain at the same time. She located and removed the burned out wire by the time Mary returned with the new one.

"Thanks," she said as her friend sat back down.

"Look, I…I mean time travel? That's-"

"Mad?" Rose asked, giving her a grin.

"Right."

Rose returned her attention to her work trying to come up with the best way to explain, but it was complicated, so very complicated. Hell, she probably wouldn't believe it even with everything she'd seen if she hadn't lived it.

"The first time I met Sherlock he knew everything about me. My past, my family, where I came from, what I'd gone through, what I'd done," she glanced at Mary and watched the woman shift. "Think about that. You're young, you're alone in the dark, you've been alone for a long time, lost everyone, you're in a place you can't escape, and you're scared." An understanding look crossed Mary's eyes and she knew the woman was remembering her own past. "You think, this is it. This is where I die and then," Rose couldn't help smiling at the memory, even through the tears that pricked the corners of her eyes because although she didn't like remembering that time she was remembering him. "Then there's this man and he's all rumpled hair and long dark coat, something that reminds you of someone else, someone you lost and he's there and he pulls you out of the dark. He knows you, knows everything you've done, knows who you really are and he accepts you, accepts all of that. I thought," she sighed, "I thought I'd never be happy. I thought I was cursed, but that man, that man saved me and I will never be able to repay him."

She felt Mary's hand cover hers and she glanced at the woman, only then realizing that there were tears.

"Sorry," she apologized, wiping her eyes.

"I understand," Mary said.

"I have to get back to him," she continued, connecting the wire.

"But, he's here."

"No," Rose shook her head. "This Sherlock isn't my Sherlock. This is him before. If I stay it could change things, keep him from saving me. Time isn't a straight line. It changes."

"Like stepping on a butterfly."

She grinned.

"You always were clever."

Mary returned her smile. Rose snapped the plate back in place and the screen stuttered to life. She beamed.

"Brilliant!"

"You aren't going to just leave are you?" Mary asked, worried about what Sherlock would do.

"I have to. If I don't he'll try to stop me."

She strapped the Vortex Manipulator on her wrist and then pulled on her jacket. Then she carefully pulled her foot off the coffee table and glanced around. John's cane was still there, in the corner of the room collecting dust.

"Can you hand me that?" she asked.

Mary retrieved the cane, but she could tell the woman was worried.

"Sherlock will be fine," she continued. "Really."

Mary helped her stand and walk around the coffee table.

"I hope you're right."

"So do I," Rose typed in the coordinates. "Stand back. I don't want to accidentally take you with me."

At that moment the door opened. Rose looked up and locked eyes with Sherlock.

"Rose! No!" he shouted racing into the room.

Mary watched her press a button on that device as Sherlock reached her and a moment later they were both gone with a loud popping sound, leaving behind the scent of ozone.

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><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**


	24. The Trouble With Votex Manipulators Pt1

A second chapter again today to make up for all the time I took off. Hope you enjoy it and the surprise at the end. :)

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><p>"Sherlock!" Rose yelled as they popped into existence, falling to the ground from their unstable landing.<p>

Sherlock, for his part, felt like he'd been put in a blender. He shook his head to try to clear it.

"How…can you…travel with that thing?" he asked.

They were between a set of tall bushes and trees, outside, early afternoon. Rose glanced around. She recognized this place.

"'S not so bad as long as some idiot doesn't grab me while I'm traveling," she replied. "Wait. This is the park near Baker Street."

Sherlock shook his head again. His surroundings came into focus. A child's laugh drew his attention and he squinted through the bushes. As he watched, a ball rolled toward them.

Rose was in the process of standing up when she caught sight of something that made her freeze, no…someone. She crouched back down so quickly she nearly collided with her husband, well, future husband.

"Sherlock," she hissed. "Don't move."

He was about to inquire about her distress when a child came into view. A young girl, four, maybe five years old. When she bent down to pick up the ball she glanced into the bushes. The first thing that struck him was her eyes…Rose's eyes. She had the same nose, his mother's chin, and long curls of dark hair.

The girl's dark hazel eyes widened, but before she could react a voice called her, _his _voice.

"Allison," another Sherlock called.

She grabbed the ball and hurried away. He watched her, unable to do little else, struck, not only by the sight of her, but by the strange emotions coursing through him. If he hadn't believed Rose was, or would be, his wife before and that they would one day have a family he could not refute the evidence that presented itself in the form of the young girl. A girl who was so obviously a combination of the two of them.

He found himself standing without realizing it. The young girl, Allison, was running toward…_him_, the other him, and he was…smiling. Happy. The other Sherlock lifted her in his arms and swung her around. Her laughter resounded throughout the park. Could he actually ever be that man? Before he could ponder further someone grabbed his hand and yanked him back down. A moment later he found himself staring into the deep hazel eyes of the woman who would give him the happiness he just witnessed.

"This is dangerous, Sherlock. You shouldn't be here. They can't see you," Rose insisted.

This was bad, really, really bad. Having two Sherlocks in the same place could result in the universe ripping apart. Seeing each other could change things, but if they touched…catastrophic consequences. She had to get him back to his proper time.

"Why?" Sherlock asked, that being the only thing running through his mind.

She could have picked anyone, but, for some reason he couldn't fathom, she chose him. She gave him her life and from what he witness so much more.

"Besides changing the future or the universe imploding?" she asked, mistaking his question.

"No," he dismissed. "I mean me. Why do you…" _love me_ he'd been about to ask, but he couldn't voice the words.

Rose stared at him a moment trying to work out what he meant. Why did she what?

"Sorry?"

He paused, trying to come up with a different way to voice the question.

"You married me, or will marry me."

Her brows drew together.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

She smiled then because she could see it. The hesitation. That part of him that never believed he deserved to be happy. It wasn't there very often these days, well not with the man on the other side of the bushes, but once in a while it surfaced.

"Because I love you, you lump," she replied.

"Yes, but why?"

He had to know, had to understand. This was a puzzle piece that didn't fit.

"You saved me," she replied because it was true, but it wasn't just that he saved her from the hell she was in when they first met.

His eyes flicked between hers, reading her. Was it that simple? No, nothing about Rose was simple.

"There's more."

She couldn't tell him. If she told him too much too soon that could alter things and that was just as dangerous to her as the universe imploding. She wouldn't jeopardize her life, their life, for anything.

"We have to go," she insisted.

He couldn't let her run again. Not from this. Not now. He reached out and took her hands in his, holding her there.

"I have to know."

Rose watched him, judging him. After a minute she sighed, realizing he wasn't going anywhere until she gave him something.

"Next time I see you I'll tell everything. I promise, but for now just know that when I first met you, you knew me. You didn't just recognize me, you knew everything and you accepted me." His brows drew together at that, not understanding what she meant. "I…I'm not an angel, Sherlock."

That was the most absurd thing he ever heard.

"I-" he began, but she pressed her finger to his lips.

"There's blood on my hands. A lot of it and…for a long time I thought I was cursed. That being alone, having everyone I loved either die or be ripped away was a punishment from the universe for what I did. A payment, if you like."

"The universe isn't capable of cursing someone to a lifetime alone. It isn't sentient," he replied, wanting to take that thought from her mind.

"And that's where you're wrong Sherlock Holmes. I've seen things that you would never believe." His brows drew together, trying to work out what she meant. She would have to give him more, but she had to be careful. "When I was nineteen I met a man who changed me. He showed me a better way to live my life. That you make a stand, you do what's right, you don't just stand by and let things happen. He opened my eyes and I traveled with him for two years. We saved the world and sometimes the universe." It was a metaphor, of course, but he wasn't entirely sure what she meant by it. "He showed me that the universe is so much bigger than I thought and that even one person can make a difference."

"You fell in love with him," Sherlock grudgingly surmised.

"Right," she replied, giving him a smile that he couldn't return because she was talking about being in love with someone else. "And he loved me, but he couldn't say it and because he didn't say it I couldn't say it. Then we were separated and when he said goodbye I told him. He tried to say it back, but that didn't matter because it was too late. The universe didn't care, but that's the thing. The universe goes on whether you say what needs saying or not. It doesn't wait around until you're ready, until you're strong enough, until you're sure. It gives you a moment if you're lucky and if you don't take that moment…" she trailed off.

Sherlock sat there in the grass, hidden behind the bushes with his hands in the woman's who would change his life forever. The words were there, he wanted to say them, willed them to come, but in the next moment she was pulling him up with her as she stood.

"Right. We need to go," she continued.

She released one of his hands, but kept hold of the other and lifted it with her Vortex Manipulator to type in the coordinates and date. Then she pressed the button.

In the next moment they were standing on a dark street. The quiet was broken by a voice.

"Did you miss me? Did you miss me?" the voice called, repeating the question over and over.

"This is wrong," Sherlock said, recognizing the voice as he looked around. His eyes fell on a shop with tellies in the window. Each one held the image of the man who died twice.

"Moriarty," Rose breathed that being the only thing she could do as she stared into the eyes of the man who put her in hell, the hell that Sherlock saved her from. "No, no, he's dead."

The fear in her voice tore his gaze from the telly. He gripped her hand tighter, but not even that seemed to get through to her.

"Rose," he said, stepping closer, wanting to take that fear from her eyes. "This is the past. We should go."

_This is the past_. Yes, the past. He was right, of course he was right.

"Right," she said, lifting her arm to type in the coordinates, but she was stopped by a sound, an impossible sound.

"What is that?" Sherlock asked as the _wheezing _nearly drowned out Moriarty's voice.

"That's…" Rose paused, her mind refusing the truth, even as the blue police call box began materializing on the corner. "That's not possible."

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><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**If you have time reviews are always welcome. :)**


	25. The Trouble With Votex Manipulators Pt2

That was a cruel cliffy wasn't it? Okay, since you all asked here's the next bit, can't promise that it won't end in a cliffy either. :)

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><p>Rose watched the TARDIS materialize, but it couldn't be the TARDIS. That just wasn't possible. Only, there it was, all blue, bluer than she remembered and he was in there. The Doctor.<p>

Sherlock watched her as the police box became more solid. Did it travel as she did? There was still fear present in her eyes, but it was being replaced by another emotion and one that didn't sit well with him. Her hand loosened in his as she took a step forward, but he tightened his hold and before he could second guess his actions, he pulled her into the alley.

"What're you doing?" she demanded.

"This is the past. I would surmise it's as dangerous to interact with as the future," he replied in that emotionless tone, the tone that he took on when he was afraid, something he would never admit.

"No, but, this is different," she replied, peeking around the corner. "He shouldn't be here."

_He. _Exactly who was _he_ and how did Rose know him?

"Who?" he asked.

"The Doctor," she revealed, distracted by the sight of the TARDIS. "It's not possible. The walls between the universes are sealed. I mean, there were cracks, that's how I got through and that was dangerous. I almost died."

He couldn't make any sense of what she was saying, but he watched her muscles tense, anticipating her movements. He wasn't sure who the Doctor was, but she was worried over him and knowing her as he did he knew she'd want to help. There was something else too, something about the way she looked at the box, the way she spoke of the man. He wasn't letting her anywhere near this doctor, whoever he was.

"I'm sure he's fine," he replied, still in that emotionless tone.

"He's in there. He could be hurt…dying. I have to-" she was cut off from both her speech and movements as he wrapped an arm around her waist and stepped into her space holding her in place.

"You're not going anywhere."

"Sherlock," she snapped, trying to wriggle out of his hold. "Let me go!"

"It's dangerous. You said so yourself."

"This is different. He isn't met to be here."

"You don't know that."

"Yes I do!"

He wrapped his other arm around her waist as she struggled. She wanted to kick him, shove him, what the hell did he think he was doing? The Doctor was in there and if the TARDIS was forced into this universe or fell through some crack he could be hurt…dying and she had to help him.

At that moment Rose ceased her struggling as the doors of the TARDIS opened and a ginger haired woman wearing a red shirt and a black mini skirt stumbled out amid a plume of white smoke. She coughed as she took a few steps. A sandy haired man followed her a moment later also coughing a sputtering. Rose watched him take the ginger woman's arm, leaning on her. Was that the Doctor? Before she could muse further another man in a tweed coat and black trousers that were a bit too short stepped out. He held a fire extinguisher, shooting it into the TARDIS.

"Doctor," the ginger said before resuming a coughing fit. The sandy haired bloke tried to look her over, but she pushed him away. "Not now, Rory."

"You could be injured."

The girl straightened herself.

"I'm fine," another cough and he gave her a _I don't believe you_ look. "Really." Then she walked toward the man who must be the Doctor.

"He looks so different," Rose commented.

Sherlock glanced from her to this doctor. He took in the tweed jacket, bracers, too short trousers, boots, floppy hair.

"He looks like an idiot," he replied.

"Hang on," the Doctor said, pausing with the fire extinguisher as he glanced around the darkening street. "Can you hear that?"

"You mean that creepy voice repeating _did you miss me_?" the ginger asked. "Yeah, kind of hard to miss."

"Ooooh! Look there," the Doctor said in an excited, child-like voice that made Rose smile. He hurried over to the telly shop that Rose and Sherlock had been looking at.

Sherlock kept watch on the doctor as the man drew closer to their hiding spot, ready to pull Rose back if he thought the man might catch sight of them.

"Where are we?" the ginger demanded, as she and the other bloke drew closer.

The Doctor smiled gazing at the image of the man on the telly.

"No idea," he replied.

"Who's that?" she asked.

"No idea."

"This doctor of yours doesn't seem to know much," Sherlock whispered.

"Why's he on every channel?" the sandy haired bloke asked.

"And why's he keep saying that?" the ginger inquired. "It's creepy."

The Doctor seemed to snap back to himself as he eyed the two who must be his new companions.

"The dictator in charge," the Doctor replied.

"Sorry?" the bloke asked.

"You asked who he was and why he'd be on every channel. Seems like something a dictator would do."

"Wait, but are we in a different country then?" the ginger asked.

The Doctor stuck a finger in his mouth then held it up.

"We're in London."

"No, but there's a queen not a dictator."

The Doctor smiled, clapping a hand on their shoulders.

"New universe, new rules."

"We're in another universe?" the ginger asked.

"That's what I said, Amy. Weren't you paying attention?"

"We almost died last time you took us to another universe," the sandy haired bloke complained.

"Yes, but you didn't," the Doctor replied. "Besides I didn't have a choice this time, if you recall all that yelling and falling from the sky."

He began walking them back toward the TARDIS.

"Still, we should leave," the sandy haired bloke said. "It's dangerous and, you know, we did just save Amy from those vampires."

"Fish vampires, Rory, and I'm fine."

"You almost died."

"But I didn't and I'm fine. Besides this is much better than the other time we left the universe. There are shops."

The Doctor released them as they drew up to the TARDIS.

"There's a crazy dictator on the telly and you want to go shopping?"

"Of course, what else is there?"

"There's leaving and going back to where there isn't a mad dictator."

"Amy's right," the Doctor interrupted. "We should definitely go shopping." He grinned, gazing around before he turned back to Rory. "Besides, we can't leave."

"Sorry?" Rory asked.

"The TARIDS was damaged when she was pulled from our universe to this one." He stroked the side of the ship. "She needs time to repair."

"So, in the meantime we go shopping in some unknown universe and Amy gets kidnapped."

"Hey," Amy snapped. "I don't always get kidnapped."

"There's far more to worry about than Amy being kidnapped," the Doctor said.

"Like?" Rory asked.

"Like finding out who's watching us and exactly why they're watching us."

Sherlock pulled Rose back as the Doctor's eyes snapped to the alley. The man's ludicrous outfit and child-like mannerisms made him seem like an idiot, but Sherlock realized that it was a ruse. The Doctor knew they were there, that he was being watched.

"We have to go," he insisted.

"There's something wrong, Sherlock," she replied. "He shouldn't be here."

He felt every second tick by, knowing the Doctor was getting closer to their hiding place. He wasn't worried about changing things so much as he was worried about what might happen if the two saw each other. He wasn't sure why that thought nagged him so much, but he could figure that out later.

"And neither should we. Not with Moriarty still alive." He knew it was cruel to bring that fact back to the surface, but it was the only card he held.

She could still hear Moriarty's voice and Sherlock shedding light on that brought back the fear that had momentarily banished at the sight of the TARDIS. She typed in the coordinates and a moment later they vanished in a flash of light and an electrical zapping noise.

At the flash of light the Doctor quickened his pace, but he was too late. He could smell the scent of ozone that hung in the alley. Whoever had been watching them was gone.

"What was that?" Amy asked, drawing up behind him with Rory.

"Someone here has a Vortex Manipulator," he replied.

"River?" she asked, that being the only person she knew who had one.

The Doctor mused over that a moment before dismissing it.

"If she was pulled out of the universe as we were it would've killed her. We were shielded in the TARDIS. That's the only reason we survived."

"Was it whoever brought the TARDIS here?"

He smiled at her then. Clever little Amelia Pond. The girl with the fairytale name.

"That, Amy, is a very good possibility, but," he turned and stepped out of the alley, "that theory will have to wait until the TARDIS is repaired enough to run a scan. For now," he clapped his hands together, grinning, "who's hungry?"

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><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**


	26. The Trouble With Votex Manipulators Pt3

**In this chapter more is revealed about Rose's past, arguments arise, and Mary starts to become the friend she will later be to Rose.**

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><p>Mary stared at the spot Rose and Sherlock just occupied. They were gone, vanished, but that wasn't possible. Were they dead? Was that a weapon of some sort that Rose repaired? No, that didn't make any sense. The only two who were affected were Rose and Sherlock, but he grabbed her as she used the device.<p>

Mary found herself walking over to the spot. She could smell ozone. Before she could work out what that meant the zapping sound came again and with a flash of light Rose and Sherlock reappeared about a meter from where they vanished.

"What?" Mary asked, her mind trying to make sense of things. "No, but…" Rose glanced at her, "but you were just here and now you're there and what is that thing?"

Her eyes snapped to Rose's wrist. The other woman grinned.

"Vortex Manipulator," she replied raising her wrist to show off the device. "Nasty bit of time travel."

"I'll say," Sherlock replied, stumbling a moment as he tried to get his bearings.

"Hang on," Mary paused, eyeing them in a half amused, half disbelieving way. "You didn't actually say time travel, did you?"

"Yep," she replied, popping the 'p.'

"No…" Mary shook her head. "Really, what is it?"

"It's a device that travels in time, Mary," Sherlock replied, a bit irritated, more so because of their run in with that doctor.

"Sherlock," she replied, brows drawing together as she eyed him. "You don't actually believe that."

"Since I've just been to both my future and my past I'd be an idiot not to."

"Sorry?" she asked, pausing in disbelief.

He rolled his eyes and sighed. Really, he thought Mary would at least believe the proof before her and not dismiss it out of hand. Maybe John was rubbing off on her. Pity that.

"I better go," Rose replied, drawing his interest.

"And were, exactly, do you think you're going?" he inquired, knowing the answer, which was why he was questioning her.

She was planning on going back, helping that doctor. He was the only reason she hadn't done so in the first place and that plan was dangerous, not only for her safety because he was in a time when Moriarty was very much alive, but it was dangerous for their future together. He could see that in the way she looked at that box and spoke of the man. After witnessing the life he would have with her he wasn't willing to jeopardize that.

"I have to help him, Sherlock," she sighed.

"He didn't appear to need any help, Rose. He wasn't alone and he was uninjured."

"He always needs help. You don't know him like I do."

That's when it clicked. The puzzle pieces falling into place.

"That doctor, he's the one you told me about. The one you traveled with."

"He is," she admitted, glancing away because she couldn't meet his gaze. She shouldn't have told him how she felt about the Doctor…how she used to feel, but she never thought she'd see the daft alien again. How could she know her next jump would put her back on that path?

Sherlock, who lived on the edge of stability, felt that stability slip. This was the man she admitted being in love with, a man she was separated from and, yes, he could see that the doctor was a man who could take her away from him, from the future he never would have guess he could have.

Mary glanced from Sherlock to Rose. She wasn't sure she believed in that whole time travel business. It was impossible, but she believed what she could see and right now she could see that something was more than amiss. There was a man, a doctor, and he was someone from Rose's past. He was someone the woman cared about and Sherlock felt threatened by him. Knowing Sherlock he was bound to say or do something idiotic. He was very good at that.

"No," the detective snapped.

"Sorry?" Rose asked.

"You're not going back to him, you're not going anywhere until you realize what an idiotic, dangerous endeavor that would be. I forbid it!"

"You forbid it?" she snapped. "Why? Because it's dangerous?"

"Precisely," he replied, as if she was agreeing with him.

"Oh, that's rich coming from you." She flourished her finger at him. "That's all you ever do. Run straight into danger like some stupid ape-"

"Stupid what?" he yelled.

"You heard me! I'm so sick of your asinine-"

"Shut up!" Mary yelled and they both looked at her. "The pair of you!" Sherlock's eyes narrowed and Rose folded her arms across her chest, but they stopped arguing and that's what she was going for. Now to sort through this. "Rose," she began, gently because she didn't want this to escalate into another argument. "I'm not going to say I understand what's going on, not fully, but, I can tell that you two love each other and I don't think you'd love Sherlock if you didn't trust him. Am I right?"

"Of course I trust him," Rose replied. "And if he was here I'd trust his judgment."

Sherlock's eyes snapped to her, anger welling inside of him.

"I am here."

"Yes, _you_ are, but that's the thing, isn't it? You're not my Sherlock."

"I am Sherlock Holmes."

"Not mine."

"Okay!" Mary snapped, loudly to get their attention. This wasn't working as well as she hoped so she'd have to try something else. "If what you told me is true then some time in the future we become friends, right?"

"Yeah," Rose replied, shifting as she stood.

She was upset and all she wanted to do was go help the Doctor, find out how he was pulled out of the other universe because if that was true, if something pulled the TARDIS here then that meant someone in this universe had a device that might very well have the capability of being a massive weapon.

"Which means you trust me."

"Of course."

"But you don't trust me now?"

"What?" Rose asked, confused. "I didn't say that."

"You don't trust Sherlock, at least, this Sherlock."

The detective grinned. Mary was on to something. He caught the glance from Rose.

"He's too emotional like this."

His brows drew together as he subconsciously straightened his suit.

"I am not emotional," he snapped.

Mary glanced at him. Rose was right. He was upset about something.

"You have me there," she replied.

"I am not emotional," he repeated, growing more irritated by the second.

Why did they think he was being emotional? He wasn't emotional. Rose was being emotional if anyone was. Trying to duck out of there and go back to that doctor who would put her in a very dangerous place and for nothing more than to help him when it was obvious he didn't need her help and even if he did it wasn't as if it was her job to help him.

"Anyway," Mary continued, dismissing Sherlock's childish insistence. "This doctor. He's…a friend?" she asked.

"Yeah," Rose replied.

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"You told me you were in love with him. That makes him more than a friend, I'd think," he replied.

Mary raised her brow.

"You're right. I was in love with him, but that was…in another life."

Sherlock snorted.

"Another life," he replied disbelievingly, "were there fairies and leprechauns in this other life?"

"Sherlock," Mary snapped.

"No, Mary," Sherlock replied, straightening his suit as he eyed Rose. "Really, I'd like to know what she means by _in another life_. You only have one life. You don't simply stop feeling a certain way because you decide you're going to live a new life."

"This from the emotionless lump in the middle of the room," Rose snapped.

"Which is exactly what I would expect from someone who's avoiding the question because she knows the truth."

"You have no idea who I am and what I've been through, Sherlock Holmes!"

"Well, then, why don't you enlighten me?"

"I've lived four lives and only one them I chose. The others were chosen for me, by fate or the universe or the Doctor! I've been a shop girl with no future, the girl who traveled in space and time with a man who wasn't a man, a girl trapped on a parallel world who became the defender of the earth, and the other consulting detective. I looked into the heart of time itself to save the Doctor and not a year later I was ripped away from him. So, yeah, I loved him. I stood on a beach in Norway and told him I loved him then I watched him fade away. I worked for two years to get back to him and helped him save the universe again. Then I had to say goodbye again on that bloody beach because he thought I'd be happier with someone else, someone human, but that's a bloody man for you, human or otherwise, always think they know what's best. It's not what I wanted, but I made do as best I could because that was my life, my new life, stuck on some parallel world and no way back. Then the cracks appeared, cracks in time, in the fabric of the universe and I knew there was only one way to close them. By throwing in something big and complicated, something with time energy attached to it. The other doctor, he wanted to go, but I knew he wasn't enough. I held the fabric of time, not him. I knew I'd be leaving behind my family, my mum, dad, and my little brother, my team at torchwood, everything, but I did it because it was right. Saving them was worth.

I don't know why I thought I'd either die or wind up back in my original universe, but that's not where I wound up. I wound here." She shoved aside the images that threatened to surface. Images of Moriarty and that room. She couldn't think about that, even now, even a few years later. "So, when I say I've lived four lives I'm not speaking metaphorically. I mean I have lived four different lives."

Sherlock didn't know what to say to that as he processed everything she told him. He wasn't sure what time energy was or how she could look into time. He didn't have enough information to completely understand everything she revealed.

Mary stared at her, trying to process. Was everything Rose revealed true? It was impossible, but she couldn't figure out why someone would come up with such an outlandish lie. Parallel universes, time energy, traveling in space and time with…an alien. Was the woman mad? Mary looked her over, no, she didn't think so or if Rose was mad she was the sort who fully believed her own story and acted completely sane at the same time.

"Look…um…okay," Mary stammered, trying to regain her balance while her mind reeled with all that information. "So, you loved this man," she dismissed the idea that he wasn't a man for the moment, "this doctor, but he left you with someone else."

"Right," Rose replied.

"But you still have feelings for him?"

"What? No," Rose glanced from Mary's disbelieving look to her hands. Did she? No, she loved Sherlock and Ally, and their life together. It was her life, but then she never expected to see the Doctor again. "I would never leave them."

"That doesn't really answer my question," Mary replied.

"I...care about him, but not like I used to. He's…a friend," she said.

That green eyed monster of jealousy surfaced inside Sherlock as he watched her avoid eye contact. He wasn't sure if she was lying to them, herself, or both.

Mary could see that Rose was confused. It was expected. The woman loved that doctor and he left her. Rose was in love with Sherlock though, she could see that, but when confronted with her past, well, it was only natural to have those emotions turn back up. She definitely shouldn't go after that doctor on her own though, not while she was confused about her feelings.

"You said you trust Sherlock's judgement," Mary tried.

"I do."

"Then, as your friend, I'm asking you to talk to him first." Sherlock opened his mouth to repeat his previous decision, but Mary cut him off with a look. "Go back to him, tell him what happened, and talk to him about it before you do anything." Rose hesitated. Mary was right. It's what she should do, but that would take time. "It's what you'd want him to do."

She sighed.

"You're right," then she caught Mary's gaze and smile. "Of course you're right."

Besides, she had a Vortex Manipulator. She could go back to that exact time and place no matter how much time passed. The Doctor was in Sherlock's past and everything seemed to be the same, which meant he was either always there or his being there didn't change anything…or he was dead because whatever drew him there killed him, but she pushed that thought aside. She could change that.

"I'll come with you," Sherlock suggested, not wanting to let her out of his sight because he wasn't sure he believed she wouldn't go running back to help that doctor.

"She'll be fine, Sherlock," Mary said, laying her hand on his arm.

He opened his mouth to argue that he wasn't letting her go on her own, but he was interrupted by the sound of the door opening as John barged into the room.

"Sherlock, whatever you think you're going to do, just…stop!" his friend insisted.

At that moment there was a flash of light and a zapping noise as Rose dematerialized. Sherlock's eyes snapped to where she'd been and he growled in frustration. She was gone and for all he knew she was going back to help that bloody doctor.

* * *

><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**If you have time reviews are always welcome. :)**


	27. Meddling Pt1

**In which the Doctor meddles.**

* * *

><p>The Doctor walked into the pub with Amy and Rory following. There was something going on and he was determined to root it out. The TARDIS hadn't simply fallen through a crack, she was pulled, ripped, actually, from their universe to this one and the only possible explanation was that someone built some kind of TARDIS pull-y machine, sort of like a magnet, but for TARDISes. No one should have that sort of technology, no one in another universe should even know what a TARDIS was, let alone be able to build that sort of device. It was all really, extremely not good.<p>

He glanced around the pub. The telly was on and that man's face took up the screen asking the same question over and over, _did you miss me?_ All the patrons were focused on the telly with wide, startled eyes. They were surprised, which let out his theory of a dictator.

He walked up to the counter and took a seat on one of the stools, being completely nonchalant. The bartender noticed him and tore his eyes from the telly.

"What can I get for you?" the barman asked.

"Milk in a tall glass and give it to me straight," the Doctor replied with a grin. "My friends'll take the same and some chips if you've got 'em."

The barman raised an eyebrow, but set to work on the order.

Amy and Rory sat down on his left, the right seat was already taken by a middle-aged man in a long coat. The man held a glass of ale, but his focus was on the telly and not the drink in his hand. The Doctor looked the man over. He appeared to be someone in authority. He drummed his fingers on the counter as if absentmindedly to get the man's attention. It worked.

"This is all very exciting," he said, grinning at the man.

"Sorry?" the man asked without returning the smile.

"Is it a program of some sort?" the Doctor asked, nodding at the telly. "It's everywhere you know. On every channel."

The man gave him a disbelieving look.

"Don't you know who that is?"

"Sorry, no, don't get a lot of stations where we live."

"You don't recognize him from the papers?"

"Don't get a lot of papers either."

"Where you been living? Under a bloody rock?"

"Actually we live in a ship that looks like a police call box, is bigger on the inside and can travel in space and time."

The man had been about to take a drink, but paused halfway to his mouth as he blinked. Amy laughed, coming to the Doctor's rescue, something that happened often.

"He's kidding of course." The man relaxed a bit. "Likes to joke around, this one" she gave the Doctor a playful punch in the shoulder. "I try to tell him he's not funny, but he never can listen to reason."

The man chuckled.

"Yeah, got a friend like that myself," he replied.

"We've been out of the country for a while," Amy continued. "Doing…um…"

"Aid work," Rory chimed in.

"Aid work, right," Amy agreed, giving her husband a smile.

"Must've been out a few years then," the man replied. He sat his drink down and offered Amy his hand. "I'm Lestrade, DI Lestrade."

Amy shook his hand and then Rory.

"Oooh! DI," the Doctor beamed. "That's all important sounding."

"Um…yeah," Lestrade hesitantly agreed. "Right."

He shook the Doctor's hand and then nodded at the telly.

"And that's Jim Moriarty. London's notorious criminal mastermind."

"Wait," the Doctor exclaimed, glancing from Lestrade to the telly and back. "You're Lestrade and you work for Scotland Yard?"

"Yeah."

Lestrade looked the man over. He was a funny one. A bit childish, might be the other bloke's brother, no, cousin, some relative and the two were taking care of him. Well, he seemed harmless enough, if not a bit more than odd.

"And that's," the Doctor pointed at the telly, "Moriarty. Criminal mastermind Moriarty."

"Oh," Rory sighed. "You're doing the face. Amy, he's doing the face."

"Face? What face?" Amy asked.

"The…_we can't leave until we figure out what's going on and someone's likely to get kidnapped and we'll definitely be running for our lives_ face."

Lestrade paused at that. Running for their lives and being kidnapped? What the hell were they talking about?

"Kidnapped?" Lestrade asked.

"I'm not doing _a face_," the Doctor insisted.

Amy looked him over.

"He's right, you're definitely doing the face."

The Doctor felt his face.

"I'm not doing a face."

"Hang on," Lestrade said, "What do you two mean, running for your lives and getting kidnapped?"

"They're joking, of course," the Doctor said standing up and taking Lestrade's hand to shake it again. "Thank you so much for your time detective inspector. It was a pleasure meeting you and I mean that. A real pleasure. Brilliant you are."

"Um…okay…thanks, I guess."

"You always were one of my favorite characters." He glanced at Amy and Rory noting that they also stood up. "Come on you two."

"One of your favorite what?" Lestrade called as the trio hurried out the door. He shook his head after a minute. "Bloody tourists."

Once outside Amy grabbed the Doctor's arm to stop him.

"Are you going to tell us what's going on?" she asked.

"Don't you see?" She stared at him. "Moriarty, Lestrade?" he asked, animatedly. She continued to stare at him. He sighed. "Come, Amy, you must have read the stories or at least watched the adaptations."

"What are you talking about?"

"Sherlock Holmes, Amy. Tell me you've at least heard of him."

"Of course I've heard of him. I've seen some of the shows with Rory and Brian."

"Yeah," Rory said. "My dad's a huge Sherlock fan."

"Then you see," the Doctor replied, as if they knew what he meant.

Then it clicked. Amy gave him a disbelieving look. He couldn't mean what she thought he did.

"Hang on," Amy said. "Are you trying to tell us that that," she gestured back to the pub, "was supposed to be that Lestrade character from the stories and the crazy bloke on the telly is some evil genius?"

"Precisely."

"No, but, Doctor they're just stories. Stories can't be real."

"Different universe Amy. Anything's possible," he said, grinning like a kid at Christmas.

He started walking again and they hurried to catch up. They couldn't be real, could they?

"Where are we going?" Rory asked.

"To find out if it's true."

"And how are we going to do that?" Amy inquired.

"Oh, I thought a little visit to 221 Baker Street might straighten things out."

221 Baker Street? Why did that sound…

"Wait. Isn't that where Sherlock Holmes is supposed to live?" she asked.

"Right."

She grinned, grabbing his arm as she bounced up and down excitedly.

"Oh my, god. So, we're going to meet the real life Sherlock Holmes?"

The Doctor grinned at her.

"I've always wanted to meet Sherlock Holmes, of course I never thought it would happen what with him being fictional and all, but now," he clapped his hands together excitedly, "this is going to be brilliant."

"Hang on," Rory said. "Do you really think this is a good idea?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Amy asked, glancing at him. "We're going to meet the actual Sherlock Holmes."

"Yeah, but, he's supposed to be this super genius, isn't he?"

The Doctor chuckled.

"He isn't a super genius, Rory. He's perceptive, highly intelligent, and, well, if he's like the stories, slightly sociopathic, but that's hardly a super genius."

"Sociopathic?" Rory asked, a bit alarmed, but then shoved that aside to get to the point he was trying to make. "No, I mean, what if he figures out who you are?"

"Oh," the Doctor mused, pausing for a moment. "I hadn't thought of that." Then he eyed Rory gleefully. "Wouldn't that be something?"

He resumed walking.

"That could be dangerous," Rory pointed out.

"Oh, Rory, come now, even if he figured it out he'd never believe it. He's too logical to believe in time travel and aliens."

* * *

><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**


	28. Meddling Pt2

Sherlock was beside himself with worry. Thankfully, John and Mary took Ally for the night. He ran his hands through his hair as he sat on the couch, knowing there was nothing he could do.

Mycroft rang him four hours ago about the bomber and Rose. Four hours since she used that damn device in Mycroft's office. Anything could've happened. He hated that device. It was the cause of everything. The reason their lives had been so jumbled up at first, it'd nearly killed her more times than he cared to dwell on, and did, in fact, bring her to her death all those years ago.

A flash of light and a zapping noise drew his attention and Rose was standing in the middle of the room. He stood up and stepped onto the coffee table and over it in one move, taking in her bandaged ankle as the memories of how and why she'd been injured surfaced. Mycroft. The bomb. He should've put that together before, but worry had taken over his rational mind.

She was standing all right, but he knew that was the adrenaline. She likely injured her ankle further during her travels with him, the younger version of him.

"Sherlock," she said, both surprised that he was there and noting the state he was in. "I-"

"First thing's first," he replied, lifting her off the floor before she could protest and depositing her on the couch, "you have a severe sprain, which I'd hazard to guess has been aggravated by your travels."

"'S fine," she dismissed, though now that he mentioned it she could feel her pulse throbbing and the heat of pain beginning to spread. He halted her protests with one look. The _you realize I can see right through you_ look. She rolled her eyes and waited while he cleared off the coffee table. "I'm going to have to pick that up later you know."

"Don't you dare. I'll have…" _Mrs. Hudson_, he was about to say, but one look from her stopped him. "I'll take care of it later."

After retrieving two pillows he propped her ankle up and put together a bag of ice. Once he was sure she was taken care of he turned his attention on her.

"The Doctor," he said.

Her brows drew together.

"How did you…" then she realized. "You remember."

"Of course. Five years, seven months, three days."

"Right." He was the most brilliant human she'd ever known. She never really forgot, but sometimes it still surprised her. "He's here and he shouldn't be, which means something's wrong."

"And you want to help him."

"Exactly," she replied. This was the difference between Sherlock before and her Sherlock. He knew her.

He sat down next to her smiling. He remembered their conversation well and his insistence on keeping her there because he was afraid, jealous. He loved her even then, but he wasn't able to voice it. It was that fear of losing her, of her rejection that silenced him. He wasn't afraid of that anymore, but the Doctor, he couldn't deny that even now he was afraid. The Doctor was the one man, if he could be called a man, who could jeopardize everything.

His wife he trusted to the ends of the earth, but the Doctor couldn't be trusted. Oh, he pretended to be daft, he played the idiot well, but underneath he was as calculating as Sherlock. Shrewd. Rose, of course, couldn't see that. She saw the good in everyone. She could see the darkness too, but she dismissed that as a tortured soul and, yes, he had seen the Doctor was tortured, but he'd also seen something else. Not a spider, not like Moriarty, but something dark, calculating, and, yes, possessive. Something dangerous.

He couldn't allow his wife to be drawn into that again. Not after he'd seen the look in the Doctor's eyes when he heard her name. He knew he may need the Doctor's assistance in the future, but only as a last resort. Until then he planned on keeping them apart, which was why he installed the shielding. He wasn't able to come up with it on his own, but when he told Mycroft of the dangers the Doctor posed his brother was more than happy to assist as well as bringing in the minds of the most cutting edge scientists in nation.

Rose merely thought he was curious when he asked about the TARDIS and she easily told him everything he needed to know to create a way to shield Baker Street from prying scans as well as keep the that ship from landing within the building. The Doctor had done that once, but thankfully Rose wasn't a part of Baker Street at the time.

"I know you want to help him, luv, because that's what you do, but with your injury I believe you'd be more of a liability if he is in danger," he pointed out.

"He said the TARDIS was pulled here, Sherlock," she replied, a bit irritated that he was pointing out her weakness. "Someone brought him here, which means someone here knows about him."

"What are you thinking?"

She was clever, very clever. It was one of the things that drew him to her. She could see the puzzle as he could, work it out as he could, but from a different angle, which allowed her to pick up on things that usually took him longer to see.

"What if…I mean, what if I wasn't the only one to come through one of those cracks."

"Someone from the other universe?"

"Maybe."

"Who else would know about him?"

"My family, but they wouldn't be able to build something like that or know how. John would, but he'd know how dangerous it was and I really doubt he'd do it. Besides he'd try to find me."

Sherlock knew she was referring to the other Doctor and not their friend.

"Then it couldn't be them."

"No, but those cracks were everywhere and they were in the universe so maybe they were in other universes."

"You think it could be someone from his universe?"

"Could do and that's why I'm so worried. What if one of his enemies came here and then built a device to pull him here."

An enemy of the Doctor, which meant someone likely more dangerous than the man himself. That was another reason to keep her from going on her own and especially in her condition.

"I suppose that could be the case if they wanted to isolate him," Sherlock mused.

"Right," she agreed.

"But you're still not in any condition to help him."

She sighed. He was right, of course, but that didn't make it any better.

"I'll go," he continued, knowing she wouldn't be able to sit by and do nothing.

"You?" she asked, eyeing him disbelievingly.

"Yes, me."

He held out his hand, but she hesitated.

"You've never used it before."

"I'm a quick study, if you recall. I've seen you use it and I've traveled with you."

She still wasn't sure. What if something happened to him? She realized that must be what went through his mind every time she used it. It wouldn't fair of her to deny him the right to use the device when he had to sit by and watch her do the same.

"All right," she said, taking the Vortex Manipulator off of her wrist and putting it on Sherlock's before catching his gaze. "But be careful."

"Of course," he replied, pulling her in for a kiss and then releasing her to stand up.

"Don't forget the key."

"Key?" he asked as he grabbed his coat and shrugged into it.

She pointed at his desk drawer.

"The TARDIS key in case you have to wait. He likes to wonder off sometimes."

"Right." He retrieved they key she'd been wearing when he saved her all those years ago. She kept it with her that first year, but the day he proposed was the first day he noticed it was missing. He lifted the key, which hung on a chain and stuffed it into his coat pocket. "I won't be long."

He typed in the coordinates, date, and time and in the next moment Baker Street vanished in a flash of light and a nauseating tugging sensation.

Sherlock appeared in the alley his previous self and Rose occupied an hour ago, according to the time. He wanted to give himself a wide berth, knowing how dangerous it would be to run into himself.

The street was empty and there was no sign of either the Doctor or the man's companions. Cautiously, he drew up to the TARDIS. This was a time when Moriarty was still around and either he or Mycroft could have eyes anywhere.

When he reached the door he pulled out Rose's key and inserted it in the lock, but when he tried to turn it the lock wouldn't budge.

"Damn," he hissed.

"Oi," a man exclaimed behind him.

Sherlock whirled around, having been taken by surprise for, perhaps, the first time in his life. He was greeted by the sight of a short haired man who might've been a shade taller than him dressed in a leather jacket.

"What do you think you're doing?" the man inquired in a thick northern accent.

"I…" Sherlock began, angry with himself that he allowed someone to sneak up on him.

"Here's the thing mate," the man said, eyeing him. "That ain't your key and I know that because that key belongs to someone I care about so if you know what's good for you you'll tell me exactly where you got it."

Sherlock didn't like being taken off guard. He gazed over the man, trying to pick up any details that would tell him who the other man was, but there was only one word…Wrong. There was something not quite right about him.

"I found it," he lied.

The man folded his arms.

"Think I was born yesterday, do you? Now tell me where you got that."

"I don't see that it's any of your business."

He wasn't entirely sure who this man was, but he obviously knew about the key and that either made him another companion of the Doctor or someone very dangerous.

"Think you're smart do you?"

"I don't _think _I am."

"Well, that makes two of us."

Sherlock glared at him. That something off was still there, but he couldn't place what it was.

"How do you know about this key?"

"The question is how do you?"

Oh, he was good. Sherlock knew he'd have to give the man something to get any answers.

"It was given to me."

"Given to you? By who?" the man asked, but Sherlock merely stared back and after a minute the man sighed. "Fine. Don't tell me. You ain't getting through those doors and once I'm done calibrating I'll figure out who you are and if you've done anything to her I can promise you one thing, there's nowhere in time or space you can hide from me."

Sherlock opened his mouth to shoot off a reply, but before he could the man vanished. He blinked. There was no flash of light or zapping noise, he simply vanished.

* * *

><p>"Ah, and here it is," the Doctor said, walking up the steps and eyeing the numbers 221 on the door. "The home of Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock's flat, the flat of the famous consulting detective, no, no that's rubbish, forget that."<p>

He glanced from Amy to Rory and then door gleefully as he rambled.

"Are you going to knock or are we going to stand on the stoop all day?" Amy asked, impatient in her excitement to meet Sherlock.

"Right," he replied, picking up the knocker and rapping a few times before straightening it. A moment later the door was opened by an older woman in a printed purple dress. "Ah," the Doctor beamed, "you must be…" he paused, trying to remember, "Mrs. Hudson!"

"Yes, and you are?" she asked as he stepped inside without being asked, glancing around excitedly.

"Me?" he inquired, realizing she was talking to him. "Oh, I'm the D…" He couldn't use his name that would make things too easy for Mr. Holmes. He wanted to see just how impressive the man was. "Rory," he settled on, shaking her hand, "Rory Williams and this is…" he glanced at Amy and Rory who were still standing outside. "Amy, why're you still standing outside? Get in here." He reached out and pulled her inside causing her to make a surprised noise as she brushed past Mrs. Hudson.

"Sorry about that. He gets overly excited sometimes," Amy apologized.

"Very overly excited," Rory chimed in.

"That's all right dear. I've one like that myself," Mrs. Hudson replied.

"As I was saying," the Doctor continued. "This is Amy Pond and her husband Ro…" he paused, realizing his mistake. "John. John Smith."

"You two are married?" she asked.

"Yep," Amy said, popping the 'p.'

"With different last names?"

"A little weird, I know," Amy replied.

"Sherlock Holmes," the Doctor interrupted. "He lives here doesn't he?"

"Upstairs," Mrs. Hudson said.

"Oh, good." He started up the stairs.

"But he's not in right now." The Doctor paused. "Are you clients?"

"Yes," he replied while Amy and Rory both said, "No."

Mrs. Hudson glanced from one to the other, confused.

"What they mean is," he said, stepping back down and eyeing them. "I'm the client and they're here for…uh…"

"Moral support," Amy added.

"Right. What she said."

"Oh, it's bad is it?" she asked.

"Exceedingly," he said with a gleeful grin. Amy rolled her eyes, but Mrs. Hudson didn't seem concerned by the way he was acting.

"You can wait if you like, but it might be a while."

"We'd love to wait. Just up here then," the Doctor said re-ascending the stairs.

"I'll bring up some tea."

"Thank you," Amy said before following the Doctor up the stairs.

* * *

><p>John stepped through the door of Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson was nowhere to be seen. She must be watching one of her programs, but that was best since he was in a hurry. Sherlock sent him an address twenty minutes ago and asked him to get the extra gun he kept hidden in his flat, which meant he was on Moriarty's trail and likely found something dangerous.<p>

As he drew up the stairs voices reached him and he noted the door was open. His hand, absentmindedly, found his pocket and his fingers closed around his revolver. With Moriarty's return he couldn't be too careful these days.

"See here," an unfamiliar male voice said, "you can see from this level of detail how his mind works. Brilliant." John stopped in the doorway and took in the man in the tweed jacket, a ginger woman on his left, and a shorter sandy haired bloke on his right. It was the one in tweed talking. Their backs were to him as they examined one of two cork-boards Sherlock used to map out everything he knew about Moriarty from the time Sherlock was forced to fake his death until Moriarty's return and what they found thus far. "He's got this bit wrong though." The man pulled out one of the tacks that was attached to string that made up the path and John could almost hear Sherlock's angry yell in his mind.

He cleared his throat which proved to be the wrong thing to do as all three, including the man holding the tack, turned around and the entire board came undone, everything falling to the floor.

"Oh," the man exclaimed. "I…um…I can fix that."

He bent down to gather the article clippings, pictures, sticky notes, string, and tacks.

"No, just…" John stepped into the room. "Just leave it. It's um…" really not okay, "fine. Who are you?"

"Right," the man replied, dropping everything and stepping over to meet John. "I'm the…Rory and these are my com…" the man eyed the other two. "Friends. Amy and Ro…John."

He might not be as skilled as Sherlock, but he could clearly tell the man was lying about their names. He pretended to believe him wanting to find out exactly what they were doing there. Did they work for Moriarty?

"I'm John," he began as he shook the man's hand.

"Watson," the one claiming to be Rory exclaimed. "Dr. John Watson."

"That's right," he said, slowly. "Do I know you?"

"No, but I'm a huge fan."

John nearly rolled his eyes. Fans of the blog then. He really didn't have time for this.

"You're not clients then," he surmised.

"Oh, that is clever. Did you hear that Amy?"

The man glanced at the ginger who gave him a halfhearted smile, as if she wasn't really impressed with the way he was acting.

"Yep," she replied.

"That Conan Doyle really didn't get you right did he?"

"Sorry? Conan who?"

"I had you pegged as the loveable sidekick, but you're far more clever than that."

"Sidekick?" John asked, trying to make sense of the man's babbling. "Who's a sidekick?"

"Not you. No sir."

John pinched the bridge of his nose. He really didn't have time for this.

"Did you want something?"

"Right. Down to business I say. Good on you Dr. Watson."

"It's John."

"Okay then, John, yes we did want something, but I'd like to talk to Mr. Holmes about it myself."

"Well, he's not in as you can see."

"When do you expect him? We can wait. We've got nothing, but time," the man replied, glancing at Amy with a smile, which she returned as if they were sharing a joke.

"I've no idea. I just came here to pick something up, but really he's probably going to be a while. Hours."

He didn't like the idea of leaving them there in Sherlock's flat, especially after that man destroyed one of the boards his friend spent days putting together.

"Busy then?"

"Right."

"With that Moriarty business I assume."

John paused at that, eyeing the man.

"What do you know about Moriarty?"

"Sherlock's nemesis. Psychopath whose sole mission in life is to destroy Sherlock Holmes. Other than that, not much. He's a lot younger than I thought he'd be, but then that's adaptations for you."

"Adap…what the hell are you talking about?"

At that moment something burned the Doctor's chest. He hissed, reaching into his inside pocket and pulled out a glowing TARDIS key. She must've finished repairing.

"Amy, Rory," he said, eyeing them. "Time to go."

"But I thought we were-" Amy began as the Doctor shoved her toward the door.

"Come now, Amelia, can't you see Dr. Watson's in a hurry?"

John watched them hurry out the door and down the stairs. He wasn't sure who they were, but he would definitely tell Sherlock to check the flat for listening devices and cameras when they got back.

* * *

><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**


	29. Meddling Pt3

**In which the Doctor meets Sherlock.**

* * *

><p>Sherlock could be quite patient when the need arose and he used that patience to work out a plan as he waited behind the TARIDS for the Doctor. Rose wanted the man safe and, although he couldn't deny a desire to shove the Doctor out of the universe and safely away from her, neither could he deny his wife anything she asked.<p>

It wasn't simply for the horrors that she both saw and experienced it was because of what she gave him. A life he never expected, not for him. John gave him friendship, which was something he never thought he would experience and like friendship, he never pined for love because he never believed it was in his future. Who could love him? But she gave him that. She gave him family. She gave him herself and for that he could never repay her.

If keeping the Doctor safe was what she wanted then that's what he would do. He also knew when it came to the Doctor he had to be careful, very careful. He couldn't simply tell the man to leave this place and this time, he would have to lead the man away. So, he formulated a plan that would send the Doctor somewhere else.

By the time he heard three sets of footsteps walking toward the TARIDS he was ready.

* * *

><p>"We're just going to go?" Amy asked as she followed the Doctor toward the now repaired TARDIS with Rory trailing.<p>

"We shouldn't be here anyway, Amy," Rory said. "The last thing we want to do is accidentally run into Moriarty. You remember what he did in that last show-"

Rory was cut off when the TARIDS let out a low moan that carried the urgency of a sonic boom. The Doctor stopped, mid-step and stared at the ship in concern.

"What was that?" Amy asked.

The TARDIS never made a noise like that before.

"She's upset," he replied, hurrying the last few paces to his ship. He leaned his cheek against the door and stroked the wood. "What is it old girl? What happened?"

"It wasn't us this time," Amy replied.

"No, no," the Doctor agreed. "It wasn't you…it was-"

"I believe I'm to blame," Sherlock replied, stepping out from behind the ship.

Amy and Rory spun on their heels and backed off a few paces as the Doctor snapped to attention and stepped forward, placing himself between the newcomer and his companions. The man was a bit taller than him and wore a long, dark coat, but it was his eyes that put the Doctor on edge. There was darkness in them, calculated darkness. This was the sort of man who could show emotion without feeling it. Dangerous.

He was about to ask who the man was when in one movement he pulled a key out of his pocket. The Doctor eyed the key and his entire world crumbled.

"That's…" he breathed. "That's impossible."

"As impossible as a nine hundred year old alien and a police box that's bigger on the inside and can travel in space and time?" Sherlock asked, evenly, watching the Doctor's reaction.

He was rewarded as first surprise and then a dark calm settled over the other man.

"Who are you?"

Sherlock smiled. He knew he unsettled the Doctor and that's exactly what he wanted. If the man was thrown off his game he'd be much easier to bait.

"Too easy, Doctor, and besides, wouldn't you rather know where I acquired this key?"

The Doctor knew where the key came from, but she couldn't be there. This wasn't the universe he left her in.

Amy kept her eyes fastened on the taller bloke. He was dangerous and if he made one move to hurt her raggedy man he was going to have to go through her first.

"Doctor," she asked, taking his arm, "who is he and how does he know about the TARIDS?"

"Not now, Amy," the Doctor said in that _be quiet because I'm working out a plan _voice. He eyed the other man. "Where is she?"

Sherlock couldn't help grinning, knowing he successfully baited the other man.

"Safe."

"Did he just say _she_?" Rory asked, leaning close to Amy.

"Shut up," Amy replied, the same question running through her mind.

"For now," Sherlock continued.

"If you harm one hair on her head-" the Doctor began, the rage inside his hearts barely held at bay.

"You'll what?" Sherlock asked, curiosity about the man's feelings toward her getting the best of him. "You gave up any right to her when you left her. When you ran."

"I never left her. I've carried her with me for over a hundred years. She's a part of me. So when I say you're standing on unsteady ground you best take caution because there is only one person in all of creation that I will rip a universe apart to save and mate if you're standing between me and her there is no place you can hide because I will find you. I only have one rule when it comes to her and, believe me, you don't want to find out what that rule is."

During the Doctor's tirade Rory took Amy's hand and stepped back because the man very nearly radiated a darkness neither of them had seen.

"Well, then, Doctor," Sherlock replied, internally reeling because now he knew exactly how the man felt about Rose, but he kept a smirk in place as he lifted his arm to reveal the Vortex Manipulator, "how fast can you run?"

He typed in the coordinates before the Doctor reached him and with a flash of light he was gone.

The Doctor could've brought the man back, but he needed to find out if Rose was there, even with the key as proof it was hard for him to believe. Yes, she did jump through universes to find him, but that was back when the walls were weak because of the reality bomb. This was different.

He turned around to unlock the TARIDS, but she anticipated his need, opening the doors herself. He stepped through and crossed the room to the console. He could lock onto, not only the Vortex Manipulator's signature, but Rose's key as well. Rose…he shook his head, pushing the memories aside. He couldn't think about her now.

"Doctor," Amy called, hurrying over to him. "Who was that? Do you know him?"

He ignored her as he raced around the console, triangulating his search.

"Who was he talking about? Who's key is that?" she continued.

"Amy," he finally barked, making her jump. He sighed, knowing it wasn't her fault, but he was in a hurry and he didn't have time to explain things, well, honestly he really didn't want to explain, not about Rose, not to anyone. "I'm trying to trace his signature through time and lock onto it. I promise I'll explain everything when we have more time."

She folded her arms and harrumphed.

"Fine."

The TARDIS dinged and he grinned.

"Found you," he exclaimed.

In the next moment he flipped the lever and the time rotor began moving.

* * *

><p>Sherlock appeared in his flat, well, a past version of his flat before Rose became part of 221B. He glanced around at the surprised faces. John, Mary, himself. This was the day he traveled with Rose for the first time, the day he found out about the Doctor, the day he tried to keep her from leaving and John interrupted them enabling her escape back to him.<p>

His past self took a step forward and he put out his hands to halt him.

"You'll cause a paradox," he said.

His past self paused.

"What?"

"It's dangerous enough for us to be in the same time let alone room, but touching would result in a paradox that could destroy the entire world."

"Who are you?" John demanded.

Future Sherlock turned and found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

"You know me, John," he replied.

"No, I really don't."

"John," Mary said, touching her husband's arm. "It's him. It's Sherlock."

"It can't be him for two reasons. One, he's right there," John nodded to past Sherlock, "and Sherlock doesn't talk like that."

"I'm the same man, John, or will be in five years, seven months, and three days."

"What?"

"Time travel," Mary said.

John glanced at her, confused. Future Sherlock grinned.

"You always were quick, Mary," he replied. "Now," he continued, snapping back to the plan, "we don't have a lot of time," he caught the eye of his past self, "The Doctor's coming."

"The Doctor?" his past self asked. "You brought him here?"

"I didn't have a choice. We have to keep him away from her."

"Right," his past self agreed.

"The Doctor? What doctor?" John asked.

"He's dangerous." He reached into his pocket and pulled out Rose's key. "Mary," he said, tossing her the key, "keep that safe. Don't let him have it, don't even let him see it."

"What is it?" she asked, catching the key that hung from a chain and looking it over.

"It's a key."

"I can see that."

"It belongs to Rose and he's likely going to be tracking it, but he's also going to be tracking me. Separate the two and he'll have a much harder time finding me."

"Which means he'll have a harder time finding her," past Sherlock concluded.

"Precisely," future Sherlock agreed.

"But…how am I going to get this back to you?" Mary asked.

"You're not. Keep it with you and sometime in the future I'll ask you for it, but don't give it to me until then."

"Why does she have to keep it?" past Sherlock asked, eyeing the key, a key that belonged to a woman he thought of as _his impossible girl_.

"It'll be safer that way…for her," future Sherlock said, catching the gaze of his past self. "And I suggest when you shield Baker Street you do so to their flat as well."

"Shield Baker Street?"

A strange wheezing noise filled the flat. Papers scattered. Future Sherlock glanced over his shoulder as the TARDIS began to materialize.

"What is that?" John and Mary asked.

"I have to go," future Sherlock replied.

He lifted his arm, typed in the coordinates and vanished with a flash of light. A moment later the blue police box materialized. The doors opened and the Doctor stepped into the living room of 221B Baker Street.

* * *

><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

Thank you to all my brilliant readers.

**In the next chapter the pieces will begin falling into place. Lots of surprises in store.**

**If you have time reviews are always welcome. :)**


	30. Future Plans

**Okay, guys, this is where it get interesting...**

**In this chapter there are feels, a surprising new character, more feels, and some puzzle pieces may start clicking into place. :)**

* * *

><p>"Open the glove box, Allison," Sherlock instructed.<p>

She opened the glove box. There were a few papers, a mobile, and…she picked up the pack of cigarettes, eyeing him.

"Does mum know about these?" she asked.

"Hand me the phone," he insisted.

His tone was dangerous, one she wasn't used to so she dropped the pack back in the box and grabbed the black mobile. It was ancient. At least five years old.

"Does it even work?" she asked, turning it over.

"Of course," he snapped in his impatience. "Hand it to me."

"You're driving."

"I can drive and text."

She glanced over him then, not something she usually did because, like her mum, she didn't look at people like that. She could see then. He wasn't just afraid, he was terrified. She knew he'd never admit it, but it was there. He shouldn't even be driving let alone trying to text at the same time.

"It's not safe. Mum would-"

"Fine," he cut her off. "You send the text, but the wording must be precise."

"Who am I sending it to?" she asked, bringing up his contacts.

"Everyone."

"Everyone?" she asked, raising her brow as she glanced at him, something she inherited from him.

"Everyone in the contacts."

She read through them. Mycroft, John, Mary, Billy…wait.

"Is that Uncle Billy?" she asked.

"He's not your uncle," Sherlock replied.

Rose had taken a liking to Billy and helped him clean up, made Mycroft help him get a job, and checked in on him weekly, always inviting him for holidays.

"Technically Uncle John isn't really my uncle either."

"Allison," he snapped, his patience nearly at the breaking point.

She brought up a text window, deciding that she probably ought to just do what he wanted at the moment.

"What's the message?"

"Two words," he replied.

* * *

><p>John shrugged into his coat.<p>

"I should get out of the clinic early tonight," he said.

"It's not a holiday," Mary commented.

"No, but Sarah's sister's having a baby shower and I promised to close up early."

"Aw, that's nice."

Mary leaned in for a kiss, but was stopped by a sound that she'd been afraid to hear for five years. John reached into his pocket and pulled his mobile out, trying to keep his hands steady.

"Is it?" Mary asked.

John glanced at the text.

"It's Time," he read.

At that moment Mary's phone went off, and that sound, once again, filled their flat.

"I'll ring the clinic," he called.

"Let me get my shoes and coat," Mary called back as she raced into their room for her shoes and the key she promised to keep until it was needed.

* * *

><p>Mycroft's driver opened the door for him, but before he could climb inside his phone chimed, but the sound was one he'd been preparing five years to hear. He pulled it out and glanced at the text.<p>

_It's Time._

_-SH_

"Anthea," he looked at her over his shoulder. "Cancel my appointments. Tell anyone who calls that I'm indisposed for the day. Oh, and you'll have to find your own way back to the office."

He climbed into the back. The door closed on her surprised look. Once the driver started the car he gave directions to a location known only by five people. Today was the day he would help his brother save the woman they loved because losing her wasn't an option.

* * *

><p>"Dad," Alley said as her father drove straight toward a brick wall. He'd turned down an alley that wasn't a throughway and, for some reason, he wasn't slowing down. "Dad!" She glanced at him, but he was staring straight ahead. "There's a wall!"<p>

"Its fine, Alley," he replied.

Only it wasn't fine because they were about to…she squeezed her eyes shut as she yelled and…nothing. She opened her eyes. The inside of the car was darker. She glanced out the windows. They seemed to be underground.

"See?" he said.

"Where are we?" she asked. "And how did you drive through that wall."

"Perception filter," he replied.

She knew what that was from her mum. The wall wasn't really a wall. It was hiding this place.

"Mycroft, Billy, and I've been working on this place for over five years. In another universe there's a building here called Canary Wharf. That's where the idea came from. You remember your mother telling you about the rift?"

"Yeah, it's like a natural fault in the universe."

"It runs under here."

"You built something over the rift? Isn't that dangerous?"

"Very," he replied, parking the car. "But we needed enough energy for the transmitter."

"What transmitter?" she asked, but he opened the door and got out without answering.

She did the same and then followed him to a lift.

"Does mum know about this place?" she inquired as her father pressed the button for the lift.

"No."

"Why not? She'd love this place."

"We didn't build it for fun, Allison. We built it to save someone."

He gave her a sideways glance. He didn't want to tell her, but he knew she'd figure it out. Part of him wanted to protect her from the truth. The other part wanted her to know because she deserved to know, she deserved to be part of the process and hopefully the process would save the woman he loved.

Ally's mind froze as she realized what he meant. Who they must be there to save. There was only one person both her father and her uncle would come together to save and that was…

"Its mum, isn't it?" she asked, her voice quieter than she intended.

The lift doors slid open, but at that moment John's car pulled into the parking lot. Sherlock held the doors open and waited as John parked and then both he and Mary hurried toward them.

"You brought the key?" Sherlock inquired.

"Of course," Mary said, pulling it from her pocket.

She handed it over when she reached them. He fingered Rose's key that still hung on the chain before following them into the lift. He pressed the button for the 12th floor.

"I'll drop this on the top floor so they can prepare the transmitter. Then we'll go down to the basement level and ready the room," Sherlock explained.

* * *

><p>Molly parked her car in the underground lot, but as she started to climb out Mycroft pulled in. She waited while the driver exited and then opened the door for him. She didn't care for Sherlock's brother, but for this she could put up with him.<p>

"Mycroft," she greeted.

"Ms. Hooper," he replied.

"Mrs. Turner, if you recall," she reminded him.

"Ah, yes, I'd forgotten."

Really, it didn't matter. Molly was more Sherlock's goldfish than his.

"If you'd come to the wedding maybe you'd remember."

"Weddings aren't really my area."

At that moment another car pulled into the parking lot and Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"Does he really have to be here?" the elder Holmes asked.

"Rose likes him and besides he did help you with this place," Molly pointed out.

"Yes, well, he's a bit unconventional."

Billy scrambled out of his car and hurried toward them.

"Where's Sherlock? Is he here yet?" the man asked. "Hello, Molly."

He gave her a smile that she returned.

"Hi, Billy," she replied.

The lift doors opened and Mycroft stepped in followed by Molly and then Billy.

"Since his car's over there," the elder Holmes pointed out before the doors closed. "I believe it's safe to assume that he is here. And since John's car's next to his I'd say he's probably on the top floor preparing the transmitter." He punched the button for the basement. "We should head down to prepare the room."

"Right," Billy replied. "Good."

Mycroft rolled his eyes again.

* * *

><p>The lift doors slid open and Sherlock followed by Ally, John and then Mary stepped into the basement room, which was more like a large white chamber. They walked toward the others who were hooking up wires and checking monitors in the back near a long glass table that looked like half an incubator, but was large enough for an adult.<p>

Mycroft eyed him as they drew near.

"I thought we agreed to leave Allison out of this," the elder Holmes reprimanded.

"She has a right to be here," Sherlock replied.

"She's a child, Sherlock."

"I'm nearly an adult, Uncle Mike, and if you remember you haven't beat me at a game of chess in three years," Ally replied.

"Still," Mycroft sniffed, not liking his niece pointing that fact out to everyone, but he loved her too much to reprimand her. "It's not right."

"So," Ally said, taking in the room and the table. "How are we going to do this?"

"First, your uncle Mike," Sherlock said, emphasizing the nickname Mycroft detested, "activates the transmitter, then I use this," he pulled out the sonic, "to bring your mum back."

"And?" she asked when he didn't continue.

"And we hope for luck," John replied.

"Luck?" she asked, hoping they really didn't mean that.

"It's not luck, John," Sherlock admonished. "We know it works because we've seen him."

"But he hadn't seen her."

"Technicalities," he dismissed, though inside he was afraid of the truth.

"It's ready," Molly said, hooking in the last wire to the table.

"What's it do?" Alley asked, drawing up next to her.

"It'll bring her back."

"Bring her back?"

"To life," Molly replied, glancing at the girl and then realizing that Ally didn't know because her entire face crumbled. "Oh, Ally," she hurried over to the girl, "I…I'm sorry. I thought you knew."

"She…she died?"

"Yes, but its fine. I mean, it'll be fine. She'll come back on the table, I'll turn it on, and it'll restart her heart."

"Then she'll be okay?" Ally asked, but she could see from the look in Molly's eyes that wasn't the case.

"Sure," Molly replied, hurrying back to the table to check the wires and avoiding eye contact with the girl.

"Ready?" Sherlock asked, glancing Mycroft, not having overheard the conversation between Molly and his daughter.

The elder Holmes pulled out his phone and dialed the head scientist on the top floor. He only had to wait through one ring.

"Start the transmitter," he said and waited until he got confirmation that it was working.

"What's it transmitting?" Ally asked her father, trying to get her mind of what Molly told her.

"You're uncle calls it a transmitter-"

"For paperwork purposes, Sherlock," Mycroft cut in.

"But really it was built to pull something from another universe."

"Pull something?" she asked.

"Someone, actually," John added.

"Who?"

"The Doctor," her father said.

John chuckled. Ally glanced at him wondering what he could find funny at a time like this.

"I wonder what your past self would think if he knew you were the one who brought the Doctor here in the first place." He glanced at Mary. "Remember how bent out of shape he was?"

She grinned.

"Now, really isn't the time, John," Sherlock snapped as he pulled the sonic back out. "If this works the way it should," he pressed the button and the sonic emitted a warbling sound.

"I always hated that sound," Mycroft said.

An image began to flash on the incubator and slowly, Rose's body materialized.

"Now," Sherlock instructed.

Molly flipped the lever and a faint buzzing filled the room. Ally ran toward her mum, but her dad grabbed her arm. She glanced at him.

"Don't touch her. Not yet."

There was a loud zap and a flash of light from the incubator. Both Molly and John rushed to either side, checking Rose over. John felt her neck.

"She's got a pulse, but it's weak."

"But…but she'll be okay, right?" Ally asked.

"We don't have long, Sherlock," John said, purposely avoiding Ally's gaze.

Sherlock released his daughter and slowly stepped toward his wife. She was pale from the blood loss, but still so beautiful. He swallowed. He couldn't lose her. It would destroy him. He reached his hand out. It hovered over hers a moment before he reached down and clasped it. Her skin was cool to the touch, also from the blood loss.

"Why did you have to save me?" he asked, the words coming out barely above a whisper.

"Because she loves you," Mary replied next to him.

He didn't look up, didn't want to take his gaze from the woman who won his heart all those years ago.

"Where the devil is he?" Mycroft fumed.

Sherlock knew his brother felt the same as he did about this extraordinary woman. _His impossible girl_.

There was also another option, had always been another option. Saving her before she saved him, but he couldn't bring himself to do that because then he wouldn't have been able to save her from Moriarty. Though, at the time he didn't know he was saving her from his nemesis. He didn't find out until later.

At that moment a wheezing filled the room. A sound Sherlock recognized. It was only that sound that tore his gaze from the woman he loved. He glanced toward the other end of the chamber and watched the TARDIS begin to materialize, but it was different. A shade off.

Then, something he didn't expect happened. Another TARDIS began materializing next to the first. The one he remembered. In the next moment a deep, metallic boom filled the basement and the second TARDIS vanished as the first finished materializing. Two…two TARDISes? What did that mean?

The doors opened and a sandy haired man stepped out. One he didn't recognize. The man wore a dark suit and tie with a crisp white shirt. He glanced around the room, his eyes falling on first the sonic and then Sherlock who held it.

"That was a very clever trick," the man said.

"Is that him?" Ally asked. "Is that the Doctor?"

The man paused, glancing from the girl back to Sherlock.

"The Doctor?" he asked. "Am _I _the Doctor?"

"He's not the Doctor, Allison," Sherlock replied.

"I don't care who the hell he is as long as he can save her," Mycroft snapped.

"Save her?" the man asked, crossing the room confidently. When he drew up next to them he caught sight of the incubator. "Oh, look at that. That's very clever." He stepped closer to Rose and when his eyes fell on her they widened for a moment. "Oh! Oh! That's wonderful! She's-"

"Dying," John cut in.

"You're a Time Lord," Sherlock said.

"And you are?" the man asked, turning to stand level with him, although Sherlock was taller.

"Sherlock Holmes and that," he gestured toward Rose, "Is my wife."

"Sherlock Holmes?" the man asked and he was close enough for Sherlock to see the curiosity and touch of madness that lay inside. "No…No!" He grinned. "Oh! But you are, but you can't be, but you are!"

"Can you save her or not?" Mycroft barked.

The man glanced at him and then Rose.

"Of course I can save her. Little regeneration energy and she'll be like new…but why would I?"

"Because she's dying and it's the right thing to do," Ally snapped.

He glanced at her.

"Oh, aren't you the cutest thing?" he said, leaning toward her, but Sherlock stepped between them. There was something definitely off about this man. "You're daughter I gather," the man glanced at Rose, "and hers. I wonder what he'd think of that."

"I'll give you anything you want," Mycroft said. "Just, please, save her."

"Anything?" The man grinned. "But what exactly do you have?"

"What do you want?"

The man looked him over a moment, stepping around him.

"What's your name?"

"Mycroft Holmes."

The man grinned gleefully.

"Is it really?" He clapped his hands. "Oh, oh yes I think you could give me exactly what I want. Not now though, but if I save her you'll-"

"Give you anything you want."

"On your life?"

"You have my word."

"Well then," he grinned, taking off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves. "What're we waiting for?"

He stepped toward the incubator, but Sherlock grabbed his arms and locked eyes with him.

"You won't harm her."

"Since she's dying I don't think I could actually make things worse, well, unless you wait too long because my guess is in the next sixty seconds her heart's going to give out because there won't be enough blood left to sustain it."

Sherlock glanced at Rose and then released him.

"All right then," the man rubbed his hands together. They began to glow with a golden light. "I've never saved anyone. This should be interesting."

He laid his hands on either side of her face. A moment later her whole body began to glow with the same golden light. He bent toward her as if to kiss her. Sherlock took a step intent on throttling him, but John grabbed his arm.

"What're you doing?" Sherlock demanded.

"Haven't you ever read sleeping beauty?" the man asked before kissing her, a kiss, which lasted far longer than Sherlock cared for, but he held his ground deciding to kill the bloke afterwards.

The man pulled back and Sherlock stepped toward him, but at that moment Rose's eyes opened. She blinked and then sat up, glancing from Sherlock to…her eyes widened and the same fear he'd seen associated with Moriarty surfaced when she stared into the other man's face.

"Master," she said and Sherlock was sure he wouldn't have heard her if he hadn't been so close.

The man grinned.

"Rose Tyler," he greeted as he stepped back. "I'll be seeing you."

Sherlock was about to prevent the man from fleeing toward the other TARDIS, but he was stopped by her gaze and the words she spoke, not in anger, but fear.

"Sherlock," she said, "what have you done?"

* * *

><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**


	31. Chasing The Master Pt1

The Doctor crossed the room, his eyes trained on the bloke in the long, dark coat. There was something off, something nagging at the back of his mind, but he was too angry to care. He wanted to know exactly where Rose was being kept and no one was going to stop him.

"Wait," John said as he watched the man, the Doctor, cross the room. He'd seen him before. "I know you."

The man's voice was familiar enough to draw the Doctor's attention. He glanced to his left and took in the other man wearing a button up checkered shirt and light coat. He paused. Watson. He glanced around the room. 221b Baker Street. Sherlock's flat.

There was a woman. She was standing oddly. One hand behind her back.

"Doctor," Sherlock said, drawing the man's attention because his eyes were lingering on Mary and he didn't want the man to realize what she was doing.

The Doctor's eyes snapped to the other bloke. Why would he be in 221b with Watson?

"You were here before," John said, trying to figure out why he visited them all those months ago.

"He was here?" Sherlock asked. "And you didn't say anything?"

"He said his name was Rory."

The Doctor's companions joined him then and Sherlock glanced from one to the other before coming back to the Doctor.

"What were you doing here?" he inquired.

"What's it to you?" the ginger asked, folding her arms.

"Since this is my flat I'd say I have a right to know."

"You're flat?" the Doctor asked.

"Then you're-" Rory began.

"Sherlock Holmes," he revealed.

"No, but," Amy stammered, glancing from him to the Doctor, "but you said he wouldn't believe in time travel."

"That was before I knew he had a Vortex Manipulator," the Doctor replied, looking at Amy before returning his gaze to Sherlock. He narrowed his eyes. "Where is she?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sherlock said.

"You told me she's safe. Safe where?"

"I told you nothing of the sort."

"I warned you," the Doctor growled, stepping closer.

"Look," John said, trying to diffuse the situation. He had a gun, but he didn't want to use it unless he was forced to, especially with three of them. "None of us have any idea what you're talking about. Sherlock's been here with us."

The Doctor glanced at Watson. Was he telling the truth? If he was what did that mean? He reached into his pocket and pulled out his sonic then swept over Sherlock, holding down the button.

"What're you doing?" the detective asked.

"Determining the truth of your friend's words."

He flicked it off and then looked over the readings.

"And?" Sherlock asked, not entirely sure what the man was looking for.

"And you're friend's not entirely honest. You've been to the future. Five years, seven months, and two days to be precise. You've also been to the past, the exact point where I was, but not the point I met you. You were there an hour before yourself."

"What does that mean?" Amy asked, confused.

"It means," the Doctor replied, re-pocketing his sonic and then glancing at her. "He's the wrong Sherlock, well, the wrong version."

* * *

><p>"I'll need the sonic," Rose said, climbing off the incubator, or maybe out of it was a more accurate description.<p>

"Sorry?" Sherlock asked, afraid that he knew what she was planning and hoping he could talk her out of it.

"Do you realize what you've done?" she asked.

"I believe he just saved your life, my dear," Mycroft replied.

She sighed.

"I know…" she caught Sherlock's gaze. "I know and I'd do the same thing, but someone's got to fix this."

"Rose," John said. "As your doctor-"

"Look," she glanced around the room at their worried faces. "I know that you saved me, all of you, and I love you for that, but you don't understand what you've done."

"So we accidentally brought two of them here," Billy replied. "It's not that bad. Sherlock told us that you said this doctor was a good sort, well, actually he said we shouldn't trust-"

"Billy," Sherlock cut in. "Not now."

"You're right," Rose said. "The Doctor is good, but that wasn't the Doctor. Just like humans there are both kinds of Time Lords and that one…" she gestured toward where the TARDIS was.

"How bad is he?" John asked, worry creasing his brow.

He met the Doctor and he felt the same as Sherlock, but Rose considered the man good. If this one was bad, he didn't want to think about it, but he had to know.

"You've just unleashed hell, not only on London, but the entire universe."

"Surely that's an exaggeration," Mycroft dismissed.

"Wish that it were." She sighed again. "There isn't time to get into specifics, but the last time he was free he tried to destroy the entire human race. He killed hundreds of thousands of people, maybe millions. I don't know. No one actually stopped to count."

"Mum," Ally said and for the first time Rose realized she was in the room with them. "You almost died."

"I know, sweetheart." She pulled her daughter in for a hug. "I'll be careful. I promise."

"This doesn't have to be on you," Molly tried.

"But it does. I'm the only one who knows enough about him to stop him."

"There's the Doctor," Sherlock grudgingly admitted.

"You're right," she said, catching his gaze and smiling. He couldn't help returning it because she was there, she was safe, alive. Then her smile dimmed. "But I don't know where he is. He's here, but I'm not sure when."

"I know where and when he is," Sherlock replied. "But I'm coming with you."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." She glanced at Mycroft. "You'll keep an eye on Ally."

"You know I will, but I wish you wouldn't go."

"You worry too much, Mike," she said, pulling him in for a hug and allowing him to hold it just a bit longer.

"Only for you."

"What about Sherlock?" she asked, grinning as he released her.

"I stopped worrying over him after your wedding, but you, I will always worry about."

She took Sherlock's hand, lacing her fingers through his and caught his gaze.

"Ready?"

"We'll need to retrieve your key first."

"Where is it?"

"Top floor."

She typed in the coordinates and pressed the button. They were gone in a flash of light.

* * *

><p>"I know you know what's going on," the Doctor accused, jabbing his finger at Sherlock.<p>

"I've no idea what you're talking about and even if I didn't I wouldn't tell you. She doesn't need you," Sherlock snapped.

"Since I've been ripped across universes I'd say you're wrong."

"Unless it was one of your many enemies."

"I've been here long enough for one of them to pop up, but the only person I've seen twice is you."

"And I've only seen you once."

"Should we do something?" Rory asked, leaning close to Amy.

"What're we supposed to do?" she asked. "They're both-"

The TARDIS let out a ding, silencing everyone in the room. The Doctor glanced at his ship and grinned.

"Ha! I knew she could do it," he exclaimed, running for his ship.

Amy and Rory followed, leaving a bemused room behind. They raced through the doors after the Doctor, Rory closing them behind.

"What is it?" Amy asked, reaching the console as he pulled down the monitor.

"She found the signal again."

"Where?"

"Here."

It took her a minute to realize what he meant. He flipped the lever for the time rotor.

"Okay, then, when?"

"Seventeen years in the future."

"Is it him? The proper him?"

"I hope so."

In the next moment she grabbed onto the console as the TARDIS pitched.

* * *

><p>"Are you sure he'll come?" Rose asked, glancing at Sherlock.<p>

Before he could answer a familiar wheezing filled the room. Paper scattered and her hair was tossed by the wind. She couldn't help smiling as the blue box materialized. She missed that sight, not as much as she used to.

Seeing the TARDIS used to make her feel like home. Like she was seeing the one thing in all of existence that made her happy, made her feel safe. Now, it was more like seeing an old friend, someone you shared secrets with when you stayed up late watching movies. Someone from another life, but someone you still cared about.

Sherlock was her home now, but seeing the TARDIS still made her smile. She gripped Sherlock's hand tighter as the doors opened. She knew the Doctor regenerated. She remembered seeing his new face, but she hadn't spoke to him and she wondered if she had become his Sarah Jane or if he even remembered her.

The Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS prepared to confront this version of Sherlock. Prepared to do whatever was necessary to find Rose. What he wasn't prepared for was what waited on the other side of those doors.

Rose.

It was her. He knew she was older. He was Time Lord after all. He could sense it, but his eyes didn't see that. To him she didn't appear to have aged a day. She looked as beautiful as she had all those years ago when he walked away from her on that beach. Her smile was just as dazzling.

"Rose Tyler," he said, her name coming out as if it could banish all the darkness he'd witnessed and all that lay ahead for him.

"Doctor," she replied, releasing Sherlock's hand and stepping toward the man she once jumped universes to find.

He didn't run, they weren't far enough apart for that, but he did quicken his pace, only stopping when she was in his arms. He closed his eyes, holding her as if she were the only light in the entire universe and to him she was.

"Rose Tyler," he repeated as he held her.

She could tell it had been a long time for him, could hear that in the sound of his voice. She held him all the more tightly for that, trying to draw out some of his pain.

Sherlock watched them for a few minutes that stretched…he shifted…and stretched…he glanced at the Doctor's companions who were also watching and growing impatient, the ginger more so…he cleared his throat. Rose started to pull back, but it took another moment for the Doctor to release her, making Sherlock narrow his eyes.

Rose noticed the tears then and brushed them away.

"It's all right, Doctor," she said.

"It is," he agreed. "It's perfect."

She laughed, gazing over him. Her eyes fell on the bowtie and she raised her bow.

"A bowtie?"

"Bowties are cool," he replied, straightening it.

"I thought you hated them?"

He didn't tell her that they reminded him of her. Instead he grinned.

"So, new universe then?" he asked.

"Did you tell him?" Sherlock inquired, drawing up behind her and it was only then that she realized the Doctor was holding her hands. She pulled them back though he didn't seem happy about releasing them.

"Tell me what?" the Doctor asked, eyeing Sherlock, not at all happy that the man interrupted them twice.

"I need your help," she said.

His gaze found hers again. She was worried and scared. She didn't scare easily so whatever was wrong was big.

"What's happened?"

"It's the Master." The Doctor froze. "He's here."

The Master was there, in that universe. Was he pulled through too? Or was he the cause of the Doctor being there? Why would he be there? Rose. Of course. If he found her he'd want to use her. He'd been inside the Doctor's head. He'd seen how important she was, what she meant to him. He couldn't let the Master get hold of her. What he'd do was unthinkable.

"TARDIS! Now!" he barked and turned on his heels.

He opened the door and waited while Amy, Rory, Rose…

"Not you," he said, eyeing Sherlock.

"He comes," Rose insited.

Sherlock smirked, but the Doctor stood his ground.

"My TARDIS, my rules," he snapped.

"My husband is coming."

"Your…" he glanced at her hand and for the first time noticed the ring she wore. Then he glanced at Sherlock's hand and also noted the ring. "What?"

He felt as if all the air had been sucked from the room. She couldn't marry Sherlock. She was supposed to marry him…the other him. She was supposed to be happy. Safe. Have the life he never could.

Sherlock was dangerous. He was a sociopath. He'd seen that the first time he met the man. She deserved better than that. She deserved more than that man could give her. She deserved the stars, all of them.

"He's coming," she repeated, grabbing Sherlock's lapel and pulling him inside.

"Right," he said, shaking his head to clear it. He could worry about Rose's marriage later. First they had to save the universe. He strode up to the console and typed in a search. "I can search his signature, if he hasn't altered himself he shouldn't be too hard to find."

"You could search for his TARDIS too," Rose suggested.

The Doctor paused, catching her gaze.

"His TARDIS?"

"He had a TARDIS with him. It looked like yours, but-"

"It was a shade lighter," Sherlock said.

"When's the last time you saw him?" the Doctor asked.

"Less than an hour ago, but he was regenerating," she said.

"Regenerating?" Amy asked. "I thought only Time Lords could regenerate."

"That's right," the Doctor said, dismissively.

"But, you said you were the last one."

"I am the last one."

"If he's a Time Lord wouldn't that make you the second to the last one?" Rory asked.

"If you two aren't going to be helpful would you go stand over there," the Doctor snapped, pointing at the jump seat.

"Doctor," Rose snapped.

"I'm sorry, but we really don't have time for that." She glared at him and he sighed. "Amy, Rory, I'm sorry." He glanced at her. "Better?"

"Not really. No," Rose replied.

"Okay," he continued, ignoring that. "The last time you saw him he was regenerating. What happened to him?"

"He saved me."

The Doctor was in the process of entering data for the Master's TARDIS, but at her words he completely froze. He lowered his hands, realizing there was a lot more to this story than he anticipated.

"Saved you?" he asked, catching her gaze.

This was the bit she didn't want to get into, especially since he used to say how jeopardy friendly she was and she knew he'd be upset about her almost dying, at least the other him would've been.

"I…died," something inside of the Doctor snapped at that. He knew it was possibility. She was human. She would grow old and die. It's one of the reasons his previous regeneration wanted her to have the life he never could. "or almost did."

"You did die, luv," Sherlock said, repeating the words the Doctor couldn't bear to hear. There was a pained look in Sherlock's eyes, but he ignored that. "But we brought you back."

"The Master used his regeneration energy to save me, but he said…" she trailed off, not sure if she should tell the Doctor because he looked very near choking someone as it was.

"What did he say, Rose?" he pressed.

"He said he'd be seeing me."

Which went along with what he thought. The Master intended to use Rose against him. To hurt her, torture her, maybe even kill her.

"Right," he said, pulling that mask back into place as he finished typing in the data. "I'm going to run a search for a power source too."

"A power source?" she asked, leaning on the console.

He glanced at her, grinning.

"The TARDIS was ripped from her universe. He would need a massive power source to do that."

"He wasn't the one who brought you here."

Again, the Doctor paused, glancing at her.

"That was me," Sherlock revealed.

His eyes traveled to the detective.

"How?"

Before Sherlock could answer the TARDIS dinged. The Doctor glanced at the monitor.

"Oh, that's lovely," he scoffed. "Brilliant! I don't have to wonder how the Master got through!"

"Doctor," Rose tried. "He didn't mean-"

"Of course not! No one ever means to make a mistake so massive it could destroy the human race, but that's what happens when you give humans that kind of knowledge."

"She holds no blame in this," Sherlock snapped.

The Doctor glared from Rose to Sherlock and back, his eyes softened after a minute. The detective was right. It wasn't her fault and she was dying, which brought him back to that. Why was she dying? What happened to her? And how could Sherlock allow her to put herself in danger like that? Did he put her in danger?

He filed those questions for later. At the moment they needed to stop the Mater before it was too late. As if on cue the TARDIS dinged. He looked at the monitor and grinned.

"Found him," he replied as he flipped the lever for the time rotor.

He grabbed onto the console and grinned at Rose as she did the same while the TARDIS launched into the Time Vortex.

* * *

><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**If you have time reviews are always welcome. :)**


	32. Chasing The Master Pt2

**In this chapter - there's a twist, answers, arguments, and a surprise.**

* * *

><p>The TARDIS began to materialize. He typed into the keypad, intent on running a scan. Anything could be on the other side of those doors and with another TARDIS present that just made things a whole lot more dangerous.<p>

The console sparked, making him jump.

"What'd you do?" Amy asked.

He glanced at her.

"Nothing," he replied.

The console sparked again. The lights dimmed.

"No!" He began typing on the keypad, ignoring the angry sparks. "No, no, no, no!"

"What is it?" Rose asked.

He glanced at her.

"It's…" he pulled down the monitor. "Someone's draining the power."

As if on cue the TARDIS seemed to moan as all the power went out.

"The Master," Rose breathed and he could hear the fear in her voice.

He watched Sherlock step closer to her, but he turned around and laid his hands on her shoulders, catching her gaze before the other man drew her attention.

"It's going to be all right, Rose," he said.

She gave him a halfhearted smile and nodded.

"Yeah, I know," she replied.

Sherlock glanced from one to the other, eyeing the Doctor. A seed of jealousy taking root.

"And how, exactly, is it going to be all right?" Sherlock snapped. "We're in a ship without power and there's a mad Time Lord on the other side of that door."

He regretted it a moment later when Rose glanced at him and he caught the fear in her hazel eyes.

"Because I'm going to think of something very clever then I'm going to do a thing-"

"What _thing_?"

Amy rolled her eyes. The Doctor was showing off again, couldn't take him anywhere.

"I don't know yet. I haven't thought of it, but it'll be brilliant. Isn't that right, Rose Tyler?"

He caught Rose's gaze and smiled. He was rewarded with a smile in return.

"That's shake to you," she teased, bumping his shoulder with her own.

"No, no, I'm shake, you're shiver, remember?"

Sherlock glanced from one to the other, not at all liking their teasing banter. He glanced at Amy and Rory who exchanged a confused glance before the ginger crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, focusing on the Doctor. There was something to that.

"As embarrassing as this is to watch do you actually have a plan, Doctor?" Amy interrupted.

The Doctor turned his smile on her.

"Weren't you listening, Amy? I'm going to think of something brilliant-"

"I thought you said clever," Rose interrupted.

"It was _very clever_, but I've upgraded it."

"Brilliant then."

"Right. I'm going to think of something brilliant, do a thing, stop the Mater, and we'll all be home in time for tea." He glanced at Rose. "How does that sound?"

"Sounds brilliant," she teased.

"Ha!" he grinned.

Sherlock closed his eyes. If the Doctor left that second and never returned it wouldn't be soon enough. This is exactly what he was afraid of. She was being pulled back in and if he wasn't careful he was apt to lose her.

"Did he tell you about her?" Rory asked, leaning close to Amy as he watched the Doctor and that woman…Rose.

"Nope, not a word," Amy replied in her _I'm not happy with my raggedy man _voice.

"Oh."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she snapped, rounding on him.

Rory put his hands up.

"Nothing. I was just…you know…saying _oh_."

She looked him up and down before turning her gaze back to her raggedy man and the only woman who ever made him smile like that. Who the hell was she and why did the Doctor get all, not only flirty, but almost possessive around her? Oh, she was definitely having a talk with him once that Master bloke was sorted.

The Doctor walked toward the doors, but turned around at the last second, eyeing each of them.

"I'm just going to pop out and have a quick look around-"

"We're coming with you," Rose insisted.

The Doctor caught her intense gaze. It was a new look. A _don't argue with me_ look and one he might've associated with her mum or…he glanced at Sherlock…that one there.

He stepped toward her and took her shoulders.

"Rose, I have no idea what's on the other side of that door. The power's out so I can't run a scan. For all I know it's a trap."

"All the more reason that you shouldn't go out there on your own, Doctor."

He smiled before pulling her in for a hug.

"Rose Tyler, you always worry about me."

"Someone has to," she replied, grinning.

Sherlock was fairly sure his last bit of patience was about to snap. If that Doctor kept up with this he knew he wouldn't be able to resist the urge to punch him much longer.

"All right. You can come with me," he agreed, releasing her, "but only if you…" he raced across the control room, down the stairs and returned a moment later with a necklace that had a pendant dangling from it filled with some kind of golden liquid, "wear this."

He lifted it and slid it over her head. Then, nearly causing Sherlock's last nerve to snap, he reached down and lifted it from between her…Sherlock's hands balled into fists, but he held his ground. She grinned as she looked at the pendant in the Doctor's hand.

"What is it?"

"Huon particles." He caught her gaze and couldn't help returning her smile. "That way if things get…sticky," he sat the pendant back to hang between her…Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut. It was becoming quite difficult not to throttle the man. "I can send you back with this," The Doctor pulled his sonic out and twirled it.

"That's new," she said.

"New, new, new Doctor. New, new, new sonic," he grinned.

She returned his smile.

"We're going then," Sherlock growled, not at all liking the way she was looking at him.

The Doctor's gaze snapped to Sherlock, his face becoming serious.

"Rose and I are. You three stay here."

"Wherever she goes, I go," Sherlock replied.

The Doctor faced him.

"We don't need you."

"Since I know exactly how much danger you've put her in, Doctor, I'd say she does."

"_I've_ put her in danger?" the Doctor snapped, glancing from Sherlock to Amy and Rory who were no help, but he ignored that. "_I've_ put her in danger?" He lifted his finger, brandishing it. "That's rich coming from you!"

"What are you implying?" Sherlock growled, narrowing his eyes.

"I'm not _implying _anything. I don't have to. You've both told me she died. DIED! She traveled with me for two years and I NEVER put her in unnecessary danger. I always made sure she was safe."

"Safe?" Sherlock scoffed. "You call almost dying on a satellite in the future safe? What about the Daleks, Doctor? Or the werewolf? Or the Cybermen? Or did you forget about Canary Wharf?"

"I've never forgotten about Canary Wharf. I died that day!"

"What're they talking about?" Rory whispered.

"Shhh!" Amy hissed, the same question running through her mind.

"I'm not denying that she was in danger, but I was always there to save her. ALWAYS! Where the hell were you when she died?"

"Doctor!" Rose snapped.

"No, Rose," he said, rounding on her. "I'd like to know! Where was he? Where was your hus…" he couldn't bring himself to say it, "where was he," the Doctor poked Sherlock in the chest and the detective barely held back the urge to break the man's wrist. If not for Rose's presence he would have. "When you died?"

"I…" she trailed off, knowing if she said anything it would only make things worse. How could he still do that to her? She knew he didn't mean to, but sometimes, very rarely, but sometimes he made her feel small.

"What, Rose? You what?" he snapped.

Sherlock had about enough of the Doctor. He had no right to blame her, no right to judge her actions.

"I was there," Sherlock said, drawing the Doctor's attention and his anger, but that's what he intended.

"And you didn't stop it?" the Doctor snapped, grabbing the door and wrenching it open.

"Doctor," Amy said, trying to draw her friend's attention to what he was doing, but he ignored her.

"There wasn't enough time," Sherlock nearly yelled following the man out.

"Doctor," Rose snapped, repeating Amy's warning, but at that moment a collection of flood lights that surrounded them turned on and she had to shield her eyes.

She couldn't see through the brightness, which meant she had no idea where they were. It was a trap. She was afraid of that. Thinking quickly, she turned around and closed the TARDIS doors on Amy and Rory to keep them safely inside. Then she pulled out her sonic and locked them.

She felt something pulling on her sonic before it flew out of her hand and across the room.

"I'll take that," a familiar voice said.

A bolt of fear raced up her spine as she turned around. Sherlock was beside her in the next moment, taking her hand. She tried to glance at him, but she couldn't take her free hand from her eyes.

"Aw, isn't that sweet?" the man called. "See Sherlock? I told you, you had a heart."

"What are you doing?" the Doctor demanded.

"Hello, Doctor. Long time no see."

Rose could almost hear the smile the man wore.

"Who are you?"

The spotlights turned off and for a moment they were plunged into darkness before the two overhead lights nearest them came on. Rose blinked as her eyes adjusted. It took her a moment to catch movement to their right as the man who haunted her nightmares sauntered into the light.

The Doctor recognized him from the telly. The voice was familiar, but he didn't put it together until his eyes fell on…

"Jim Moriarty. Hello," he greeted as he stopped a few paces away with his hands, nonchalantly, stuffed in his pockets.

The Doctor expected the Master, not Sherlock's arch enemy. Were they working together?

"Where is he?"

"Where is who?" Moriarty asked.

"The Master. Where is he?"

Moriarty drew a bit closer.

"Am I not good enough? Not _evil_ enough?" He glanced at Rose and grinned. "Hello, Rose." Sherlock drew closer to her. "Nice to see you well." She tried to gain control of her steadily rising heartbeat. He craned his neck as if looking her over. "No scars that I can see." The Doctor glanced at her. "That's good then." Moriarty caught Sherlock's gaze. "Isn't that good, Sherlock? Wouldn't want to be reminded of me every time you look at your wife," He paused, smirking, "but then again, maybe you would."

He grinned. Sherlock's free hand balled into a fist.

The Doctor's eyes snapped back to Moriarty.

"What did you do to her?" he demanded.

"Oh, a little of this a little of that," Moriarty replied with a shrug. "We had lots of fun," he glanced at her, "didn't we, Rose?" The Doctor stepped closer to him, but Moriarty ignored the man, keeping his eyes on Rose. "But in the end I lost interest. Once I found out how ordinary she was. Just like Sherlock. Pity that." He faced the Doctor, catching the man's gaze. "But not you, Doctor. You're not ordinary at all, are you?"

The Doctor stared into Moriarty's eyes. He could see madness, but there was something…something oddly familiar about them.

"Let them go," he demanded in a low voice.

Moriarty laughed.

"Let them go? Let them go?" He grinned. "Why would I do that?"

"Because if you don't I'm going to destroy you."

Moriarty's laugh turned gleeful almost manic.

"You're always so much fun, Doctor." He mimicked the Doctor, "Let them go or I'll destroy you." He grinned, eyeing the Doctor. "Oh, how I've missed this." He clapped his hands, gazing around at their confused faces. "You don't know. Oh, I forgot you didn't know. Not even the great consulting detective figured it out and you had all that time."

He stepped toward Sherlock who shoved Rose a pace behind him.

"Figured what out?" Sherlock asked.

"You were fun, Sherlock," Moriarty said. "Not as much fun as I hoped," He shrugged, "but still fun. Toying with you. Putting all the pieces down and watching you dance. And your face when you realized I'd come back." He grinned. "Oh, that was splendid! I really couldn't have done it without you. You deserve all the credit."

"For what?" Sherlock inquired, having no idea what he meant.

"For this," Moriarty swept his arm around the room as he twirled on the spot, "for my criminal web…for me."

"What are you…" the Doctor trailed off, his eyes widening as he worked out what Moriarty meant.

The man's eyes snapped to his.

"You see?" He gestured at the Doctor. "He gets it. The Doctor gets it," He frowned at Sherlock, "and still the consulting detective stumbles."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed as he glanced from the Doctor's surprised expression to Moriarty's gleeful smile. He didn't like not knowing, less he liked working things out after someone else figured out the puzzle. Rose's hand tightened in his as Moriarty took another step closer.

"You brought me here Sherlock. Don't you see?"

Brought him there? _I couldn't have done it without you. You deserve all the credit. For this, for my criminal web…for me_. What the hell did he mean by that?

"Of course, Mycroft deserves some credit too," Moriarty continued. "If he hadn't promised me _anything_ I wouldn't have been able to take _everything_."

Sherlock's eyes widened as the puzzle pieces fell into place.

"No," he breathed.

Moriarty grinned.

"Yes."

He shook his head.

"No, no, but you can't be."

"Oh, but I am."

"Sherlock," Rose asked, trying to keep the fear from her voice. "What is it?"

"He's-"

"The Master," Moriarty grinned.

* * *

><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**


	33. Chasing The Master Pt3

The Doctor struggled in the rope that bound his hands behind his back securing both his arms and legs to the chair he sat in. His sonic was still in his pocket, but he couldn't reach it and even if he could he might be found with it and then any plan to save Rose by sending her back to the TARDIS would be ruined.

He had no idea where she was, where she was being kept, what she might be subjected to. _Scars_. The Master mentioned that she didn't have any and the look she wore when the Master spoke to her sent a wave of rage washing over him. The Master already captured her once, subjected her to…he didn't even want to consider what she must've gone through. And where the hell was Sherlock when that happened? Where the hell was her h…he closed his eyes, shoving the word aside.

The door opened and the Master stepped into the room. He eyed the other Time Lord.

"Where is she?" he demanded.

"Safe, for the moment," the Master replied. "I've left her with the other one. The boring one."

She was with Sherlock then.

"What do you want?"

The last time the Master was free he tried to take over the world, replace the human race with one of his own, well, with himself, technically.

"What do I want?" the Master repeated with a grin as he crossed the room. He sat on the table, picking up a round paperweight and examined it. Turning it over as if it held the answer. "What…do I…want?" The Doctor watched him carefully. This new regeneration seemed to have reached a level of quiet madness that was unsettling. The Master's eyes snapped to his as if he could hear the Doctor's thoughts. "EVERYTHING!" he shouted, nearly making the Doctor jump. He sat the paperweight down and leapt off the table. "I want it all, Doctor, all of it, everything!" He frowned for a moment and then glanced at the Doctor before grinning. "And I can have it and it's all thanks to Sherlock." He laughed, catching the Doctor's gaze. "Did you see his face when I told him? The surprise. Oh, it was beautiful. That look on his face."

He laughed again. Somehow the Doctor had to diffuse him.

"Why don't you let them go?" the Doctor tried.

"Let them go?" the Master asked, as if that were the most absurd thing he ever heard. "Why would I do that?"

"Because you've got me. That's what you wanted isn't it?"

The Master grinned, but instead of answering he drew closer and bent down so he was looking up into the Doctor's face as if he might find something there.

"The Doctor. The man who makes people better." His grin widened. "You're changing, Doctor. You can feel it, can't you?" The Doctor looked away, knowing the truth of the Master's words. "Of course you can." The Master dropped his gaze to the Doctor's chest. "It's there. Deep inside." He glanced into the Doctor's face again. "How does it feel? The madness. The hate." The Doctor glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, but continued to look elsewhere. The Master grinned again before standing up. "How did you feel when you saw her again? The woman who saved you, who made you better? I wish I could've seen that." He picked the paperweight up, but kept his focus on the other Time Lord. "The look on your face. The hope." He glanced at the Doctor. "That's what she is isn't it? Hope." The Doctor caught his gaze. "That's what she is for Sherlock." He toyed with the paperweight a moment. "They have a daughter." He glanced at the Doctor to see his reaction, but the other Time Lord remained impartial. "Did you know?" He shrugged, setting the paperweight down. "I could've killed her, but I didn't. I let them have her. Let her grow up. Does that change things, Doctor?" The Master stuffed his hands in his pockets and grinned. "Because I know you. I know what you were planning. What you've been planning from the moment you laid eyes on her."

"I don't know what you're talking about," the Doctor lied.

The Master laughed.

"You might be able to fool them," he nodded over his shoulder, "and even her, but you can't fool me, Doctor. We've known each other too long." The Doctor eyed him. "Does she know? What you decided?" He narrowed his eyes. "Oh, don't worry. Your secret's safe with me." The Master grinned. "You'd be breaking nearly every rule, but you don't care about that do you? Not anymore." The Master laughed gleefully. "How far you've come, Doctor." The paused, glancing over the Doctor. "We're alike, you and I. That's how it begins, isn't it?"

* * *

><p>"It's not your fault, Sherlock," Rose insisted.<p>

If only that were true, but it wasn't. The only reason he didn't save her was to protect her. So he would be there to save her from Moriarty. Only, Moriarty was his own doing. By allowing her to die he allowed the monster to get hold of her. To torture her. This…all of it…was his doing.

"But it is," he replied.

They had to get out of there and the only way they were going to do that was if they worked together. They could do anything together, but she had to have him by her side. Somehow she needed to snap him out of this.

"None of this is your fault, Sherlock," she insisted.

"It's entirely my fault."

"Why? Because you saved me? That's the reason he's here. Out of love, not out of some intent to destroy the world."

"But there was another way."

"You can't change it now. All we can do is go forward. We have a daughter to think about. A life. There's no way in hell I'm letting him take that away from us!" she snapped. He glanced at her and she knew bringing Ally into it was getting through to him. "You're not going to give up! You hear me? You're Sherlock Holmes and you don't allow the weakness of emotion to hold you back!"

He stood up. She was right. She was always right. He let Moriarty or the Master or who the hell ever that man was, get to him, but he couldn't allow that. He had to save her and Ally and John and Mary and all of them.

"You're right," he replied.

"Of course I'm right," she glanced at him, grinning and he returned her smile. "Now," she looked around the cage they were being held in, "how do we get out of here?"

* * *

><p>The Doctor was alone in the room still tied to the chair contemplating the Master's words after the other Time Lord left. Rose had a daughter. Did that change things?<p>

The Master was right. He had a plan. It sprang up the moment he saw her. There was something coming for him. His time was running out. He'd known that since his last regeneration, since the Ood. When she found him again all those years ago he thought she could change that, but then the meta-crisis happened. So he left her, knowing that she was the price he paid for saving reality, but she was there and that gave him a chance, a chance to save everyone, including himself.

The shrill cry of an alarm pierced the room. He couldn't help smiling. Rose. She must've escaped. He struggled, trying to work at the ropes. He was still struggling when the door opened and first Rose and then Sherlock hurried in the room.

"You got out," he said, grinning at her.

She returned his smile as she crossed the room and bent down to untie him while Sherlock watched the door.

"Was there every any doubt?" she asked.

"Nope. Didn't doubt you for a second."

The ropes fell away and he stood up, pulling her into a hug.

"Rose Tyler," he beamed. "You are brilliant."

She laughed. Sherlock rolled his eyes from the doorway.

"We really don't have time for this," Sherlock said and as if on cue the door opened and the Master stepped into the room with two guards.

Sherlock took a protective position in front of Rose.

"What do we have here?" the Master asked.

The Doctor knew he only had a moment. He pulled his sonic out and pointed it at Rose as he pushed the button. It emitted the familiar warble and her pendant began to glow.

"Doctor, no!" Rose yelled at the same time the Mater yelled, "NO!"

She vanished in a swirl of golden light.

The Master rounded on the Doctor.

"Huon particles," he snapped. "Clever, Doctor, very clever."

The Doctor grinned.

"I thought so."

The Master snatched the Doctor's sonic away and then leaned very close.

"But with two TARDISes I wonder where she'll wind up," he grinned as the Doctor's eyes widened. He turned to the guards. "Secure them and then we'll go on a little hunt for a stray wolf."

* * *

><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

**If you have time reviews are always welcome. :)**


	34. To The Rescue Pt1

I know it's been foreeeeever, but that pesky life thing got in the way. I've finished this story so I'll be posting a chapter a day for a while. :)

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><p>Rose felt a tug just before Sherlock, the Doctor, the Master, and the entire room vanished. The tug became stronger and although she tried to fight it she was pulled to…the Doctor's TARDIS, she realized as the room, along with a surprised Amy and Rory began materializing around her. <em>No, I'm materializing. The TARIDS was already there.<em>

"How did you do that?" Amy demanded as the golden particles began to dissipate.

"The Doctor," she snapped as she strode past the couple and up to the console.

She couldn't believe he'd done it to her again. Saved her _again_. When would he learn she didn't need saving? _She_ saved him from the Dalek Emperor! _She_ crossed universes to find him! _She_ helped him save the multiverse!

She would never leave her daughter or her husband. She loved them both, but when she saw the Doctor she allowed herself to reminisce. To wonder…what if? But now…now she was glad that her life had taken another path.

Sherlock understood. He wanted her safe too, she knew that, but he would never hold her back, never send her away. The Doctor, it seemed, would never understand.

"The Doctor did that?" Amy insisted, following her over to the console.

"Yep," she replied, fiddling with the console.

The TARDIS's power was still being drained.

"How?" the girl inquired.

"Huon particles," Rose replied, dismissively as she tried to work out how she could restore power to the ship.

"Huon what?" Rory asked.

"Huon particles," she repeated, indicating the pendant as she glanced around the control room. "But that's not important now."

The TARIDS looked so different, but all that time trapped in Donna's universe working on the TARDIS, then time on Pete's World working for Torchwood, and years married to a genius had its benefits. Plus she'd always been able to figure things out. The TARDIS might look different, but she was basically the same.

Her eyes fell on the staircase leading below the console. She started down them with Amy and Rory following.

"I've never seen the Doctor do anything like that and I've never heard of huon particles," the girl protested.

Rose stopped at the bottom of the stairs, turned around, and eyed Amy.

"What's your problem?"

"I don't have a problem," the girl replied, folding her arms and narrowing her eyes.

Oh, there was definitely something there. Rose might've thought Amy was in love with the Doctor if it wasn't for Rory's presence. Then again she loved the Doctor when they had Mickey on board. Well, whatever the reason for Amy's suspicion Rose needed to get past it and quickly.

"Yes you do and my plan isn't going to work if we can't work together. So, what is it?" she insisted.

Curiosity sparked in Amy's eyes, but there was still suspicion present.

"Plan? What plan?" the girl inquired.

"My plan to save Sherlock and the Doctor."

"Oh, great," Rory snapped. "What sort of trouble is he in this time?"

"The worst sort," Rose replied.

Amy's entire demeanor changed. Her suspicion was replaced by worry.

"What's your plan?" the girl asked.

"First," Rose replied, turning around and walking over to a mess of wires, "We restore power to the TARDIS. Then we save them."

"But the Doctor's the only one who knows how to fix the TARIDS," Rory protested.

"The Doctor and River," Amy corrected.

Rose glanced at the girl. _River? Who's River? _She dismissed the question. She didn't need distractions and, really, what did it matter who River was?

"I think you'll find," Rose said, bending down and picking up a pair of goggles, "I know quite a bit about the old girl." She retrieved the welding torch that was sitting in a sort of harness swing. "After all, we did spend a year together trapped in a universe that shouldn't have existed in the first place and then ceased to exist."

"Sorry…what?" Rory asked.

Rose grinned.

"Did the Doctor ever tell you two the story of the most important woman in all of creation?"

* * *

><p>"You shouldn't have sent her away," Sherlock said.<p>

The Doctor eyed the detective from across the cramped room. Cell was more like it. They were both bound to long metal pipes that ran the length of each wall.

"And that's exactly why she isn't safe with you," the Doctor snapped.

"Why? Because I treat her like an equal and not like some witless child."

"No, because you put her in danger!"

"That's a laugh coming from you!"

The Doctor glared at the detective. Rose spent two years with him and never once had she been tortured. Captured, yes, but he always saved her before she was hurt and she was only captured because she never stayed put. Sherlock was the sort to use her as bait. To let her get captured.

"I never put her in unnecessary danger!" he growled.

"Do you think she hasn't told me of the Cybermen? The Daleks? The Werewolf? _My wife_ tells me everything," Sherlock snapped, smirking as the Doctor's eyes narrowed at the words _my wife_.

"And what about the Master? How exactly did he get his hands on her in the first place?" he retorted.

The Doctor wasn't the same man he'd been. All those years without Rose changed him and at that moment he wanted to hurt the man across from him. He wanted to take that smirk from the detective's face.

Sherlock's eyes darkened as he thought about Moriarty, or the Mater, or whatever that man called himself. The image of Rose in that cage the first time he laid eyes on her flashed through his mind.

"He found her when she first came through," the detective admitted.

"First came through what?" the Doctor asked, his curiosity peaking at those words.

"There were cracks. Rips, she called them, in her universe."

The cracks. Could they have developed on Pete's World? What did that mean?

"She traveled through one?" he asked, already knowing the answer, but why would she do that? Was she pulled through? She'd always been jeopardy friendly.

"She jumped to save everyone," Sherlock replied.

She jumped? Why would she…

"She fed it," the Doctor mused, smiling at the realization.

She figured it out. It had taken being chased by angels and Amy nearly dying for him to figure out what Rose likely worked out straight away. She'd always been clever.

"Sorry?" Sherlock inquired, trying to work out what he meant.

"The crack," the Doctor replied, glancing at the detective and taking in the confused look. "She fed it a big complicated space time event. River wouldn't have been enough, but Rose," his grin widened, "the woman who turned the Dalek Emperor to dust. Complicated doesn't even begin to cover her." He laughed. "She's always been brilliant."

Sherlock didn't like the way the Doctor talked about Rose. He especially didn't like the smile the other man wore. Rose was Sherlock's wife, not the Doctor's…he dismissed the thought before it formed. First thing, he needed to get out of there and likely save the idiot Doctor as well, although leaving the man there did cross his mind, but he knew Rose would never forgive him. So, get free, save the Doctor, stop the Master, and then get Rose as far away from that made man as possible.

* * *

><p>The Master strode up to his console.<p>

She wasn't in his TARDIS, which meant she must be in the Doctor's, but the problem was even with her power being drained the TARDIS had just enough residual energy to keep him out.

He walked around his console, grabbed the dial, and cranked up the intensity. Although he was draining the TARDIS's power he was being careful not to destroy her, but if she was going to be defiant then she needed to learn a lesson. If that caused her destruction then so be it.

He pulled down the monitor and grinned as he watched even the residual energy begin to drain from the ship. A few more minutes and the Doctor's TARDIS would be nothing more than a husk. No pesky life form to stand in his way.

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><p>Thank you to all my brilliant readers!<p>

If you have time reviews are always welcome. :)


	35. To The Rescue Pt2

Amy worked at stripping the wires Rose pulled from beneath the console, as she was instructed to do, but her eyes kept traveling to the blonde just beneath the glass floor who was chatting away with Rory as she soldered another set of wires together. Who was Rose Tyler? Better yet, who was she to the Doctor?

Amy could admit now that she'd been jealous of River when they first met because River was mysterious and knew far too much about the Doctor, not to mention how to fly the TARDIS, but that was before she knew who River really was. Not only the Doctor's wife, well, future wife, but her and Rory's daughter. By the time she found out she'd already chosen Rory.

Rose…well, Rose was entirely different. Not her daughter. Not the Doctor's wife. Who did that make her?

Rose was married to Sherlock, but Amy saw the jealousy in the Doctor's eyes and the way he seemed possessive around her. She remembered seeing the woman when the TARDIS showed her the Doctor's past companions, but there was more to their story.

Call it motherly intuition, but Amy was sure Rose posed a danger. Not to the Doctor, but to her daughter's happiness, maybe even her future. _Time can be rewritten. _There was no way in hell she was going to let Rose jeopardize River's life with the Doctor!

She would help Rose save the Doctor and Sherlock, but as soon as she had time she'd pull her raggedy man aside and slap some sense into him if she had to.

* * *

><p>Rose could feel Amy's eyes on her, but she ignored it. She wasn't sure what was going on with the girl. She had to sort this out if they were going to work together, but asking Amy would likely result in an argument and they really didn't have time for that. There was Rory though. She glanced at him as he checked the energy crystals like she showed him.<p>

"What's wrong with Amy?" she asked after a minute.

Rory paused and then glanced at her, taken back by the question.

"Sorry?" he inquired.

"Have I done something to upset her?"

"Um…" he glance up toward Amy and then back quickly. Yeah, she was definitely watching them. "No, I…I don't think so."

So, it wasn't something she said. Onto the next possibility.

"Is it Sherlock?"

"Sherlock?" Rory parroted.

"Sometimes he can be a bit…overpowering."

He'd gotten better. In the beginning he could be a downright git, although John said he'd come a long way from when they first met.

"Oh, um, no, no, it's not Sherlock," Rory replied, glancing away.

So, not Sherlock and she didn't say anything to upset Amy. What did that leave?

"Then what is it? Because I know something's bothering her and if we're going to do this we all need to be on the same side," she pursued.

"Amy's on our side," Rory argued.

"You know what I mean."

He sighed, glancing up and then back down again.

"I think it'd be better if you ask her."

She could. She knew that, but she was trying to avoid an argument.

"Probably, but I'm asking you," she replied.

He sighed again, running his hand through his hair and an almost forgotten scar that was seared across her heart gave a painful throb because for a moment, just a moment, she was reminded of a mad man, two actually, who used to do the same thing when they were uncomfortable. She easily hid her momentary pain. She'd gotten too good at that over the years.

"I think…she's worried about you," he revealed.

"Me?"

Why would Amy be worried about her?

"Yeah."

She waited, but when Rory didn't offer any more information she continued.

"Why?"

"Because of the Doctor and…" he trailed off, glancing away as if he wasn't sure he should say anything.

"And?" she pursued.

"And the way he acts around you."

The way he…oh…Oh!

"She's jealous," Rose surmised. "But really-"

"What?" Rory interrupted, shocked. "No," he blinked, "I mean, no. She's not jealous. She's my wife. We're married."

"Then, why would she care?"

"Because the Doctor's…" he paused and Rose could tell there was something he didn't want to say.

"The Doctor's what then? Go on," she insisted, but there was a feeling deep inside her heart. A sort of dread. She shoved it aside because there really wasn't time for that sort of thing.

"Married," he replied with a sigh. "The Doctor's married."

And there it was, not as bad as it would've been when she was younger, back before she met Sherlock, but it was a blow nonetheless. She promised him forever. She even came back to him, crossed universes to find him, and he married someone else.

"Married?" she asked and even with her ability to conceal her emotions she couldn't hide the bit of hurt that crept into her voice. "To who?"

"River." There was that name again. Well, now she knew who River was. "She's…she's our daughter."

"What?" Rose asked in shock, nearly dropping the blowtorch she held.

Nothing about that sentence made sense. Rory and Amy looked to be in their mid to late twenties and the Doctor was married to their daughter? How was that…at that moment a white hot pain shot through her mind and she cried out, everything else forgotten as she grabbed the sides of her head and doubled over. _Dying_. The word and pain seemed to be one. Rose's breath came in short gasps. The TARDIS was dying.

* * *

><p>The Doctor's head snapped up as a scream tore through his mind. A scream accompanied by a feeling that could only mean one thing.<p>

"No," he whispered. "No, no, no, no, no!"

He pulled at his bindings to no avail and to anyone watching, which happened to be Sherlock, he seemed a complete nutter.

"What's wrong?" the detective called.

The Doctor barely registered Sherlock's words as he pulled at the ropes binding him. He had to get back to the TARDIS. He had to save her!

"This can't be happening! How could this happen?"

"Doctor!" Sherlock yelled, filling the small room with his voice.

It was enough to jar the Doctor back to himself.

"What?" he snapped.

"What the devil are you doing?"

"If you would shut up for a minute," he replied, glancing around the chamber then back at his bindings. The Master took his sonic, but there had to be, "and let me think," he glanced around the ground while Sherlock scoffed. He shot a glare at the detective before resuming his assessment of the floor. "I might be able to get us out of here."

"And how are you going to do that?"

"I'm working on it."

There was always a way out. There had to be because if he didn't get out of there soon they were all doomed. Not only him and Sherlock, but Amy, Rory, Rose, all of humanity and beyond because the Mater wouldn't stop with Earth or even this universe. He'd go on until he destroyed everything and everyone.

* * *

><p>Thank you to all my brilliant readers!<p>

Reviews are always welcome :)


	36. To The Rescue Pt3

I couldn't decide on the ending so this story has two endings. This is the beginning of the first one and I'll post the second as a separate _alternate _ending.

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><p>The Master grinned as the last of the Doctor's TARDIS's energy steadily drained away. Just a few more seconds and…an energy spike flashed across the monitor.<p>

"What?" he exclaimed.

Another energy spike.

"No…no!"

He grabbed the dial and cranked up the amplification. Another energy spike. This one stronger than the last two. The dial sparked.

"Think you're clever do you?" he snapped, racing around the console. "Well," he grabbed a lever, "I'll show you clever."

He slammed the lever down. Then he raced back to the monitor…

* * *

><p>The lights in the Doctor's TARDIS came back on, dim at first, but steadily growing stronger.<p>

"You did it!" Amy exclaimed.

"Course I did," Rose grinned.

Both women smiled at each other for a moment. Then Amy remembered the danger Rose posed and cleared her throat.

"Well…" she began before the lights flashed and began to dim again.

"What's happening?" Rory asked.

"That bloody time lord thinks he's clever," Rose snapped as she raced around the console, "but he better think again."

"Wait!" Amy yelled as the woman's hand hovered above the blue button…the blue button the Doctor said to never ever touch under any circumstances. "The Doctor warned us not to touch that button."

"I know," Rose replied. "He warned me too."

In the next moment she slammed her hand down on the blue button.

* * *

><p>An energy spike lit up the monitor. The console sparked. The Master pulled his hand away as the lights began to dim. This was her doing. He growled in frustration, but he knew there was only one choice.<p>

He pulled out the keypad and disabled the link. She was using it to drain power from his TARDIS as he'd done to the Doctor's.

As the lights began to grow brighter he typed in coordinates. She might be clever, but she was just a human and he was a time lord. He was the Master and she was about to learn just how far he'd go to win the game.

* * *

><p>The Doctor grinned as a familiar sound filled the small room. She did it!<p>

"Of course she did," he replied to his own thought as the door opened and she raced out with Amy and Rory following.

"You were supposed to stay in the TARDIS," he continued, though his chastising was lost in his grin.

"You had no right sending me to the TARDIS," she exclaimed.

"Rose Tyler, you are the most stubborn, never stay put, jeopardy friendly-"

"Oi," she snapped, pointing the pocket knife at him.

"Um…" he glanced from the knife to an unhappy Rose, "…did I mention beautiful?"

"That's a start," she replied with a fleeting grin before cutting the last rope. "Do you know where Sherlock is?"

She caught him as he stumbled. Amy and Rory raced forward to help, but he waved them off.

"He's in the next room. Amy and Rory can get him."

"Right," Amy agreed, turning and running for the door, "come on."

Rory raced after her.

"I thought you wanted to keep them apart," Rory said when he caught up to her.

"I do and the sooner we find Sherlock and stop the Master the sooner we can put an entire universe between them," Amy replied.

* * *

><p>Rose helped the Doctor into the TARDIS and up to the console. As they reached it the console chimed. He leaned on it for support.<p>

"Thank you dear," the Doctor said, reaching for a new sonic.

He still seemed weak, but he was inside the TARDIS, which meant he was safe. Sherlock, on the other hand, was still out there. She needed to find him and make sure he was all right. If anything happened to him she'd never forgive herself.

"I should help Amy and Rory," Rose said, turning around toward the doors.

"I'm sorry, but I can't let you leave," he replied.

She heard the strange warbling of the Doctor's new sonic as the door slammed shut. The lock set a moment later.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded, rounding on him.

He was standing straight and didn't appear to need any help. It was as if he'd been faking being weak, but why would he do that? She tried to push the suspicion aside. It was that part of her that Sherlock brought out and the more she looked over the Doctor the more that nagging feeling grew.

"Doctor," she snapped, striding up to the console to get his attention as he typed on the keypad, completely ignoring her. He flipped the lever for the time rotor and the TARDIS shifted, making her grab onto the railing. "Doctor!"

"I know what I'm doing," he replied.

"Are you planning on filling me in?" she asked when she reached the console.

"I can fix this," he explained as he flipped another lever, one she knew would launch them into the time vortex.

"Doctor! We can't leave! Sherlock's still out there! And Amy! And Rory!" He pushed buttons and flipped switches, completely ignoring her. "Doctor!"

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you to all my brilliant readers!<strong>

**If you have time reviews are always welcome. :)**


	37. The End Pt1

WARNING: This ending does not paint the Doctor in a good light. Just saying...

There's one more chapter after this then I'll upload the alternate ending. :)

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><p>"We have to go back!" Rose yelled over the TARDIS engines as she grabbed his arm and forced him to turn to her.<p>

The Doctor took in her angry, concerned expression. Much like Amy's. No, that wasn't right. Amy's was like Rose's. He brought Amy with him to figure out the mystery that surrounded her, but they grew close and he knew it was in part because she reminded him of Rose. Sweet and painful at the same time.

"We can't leave them!" she insisted, snapping him out of his thoughts.

She didn't understand.

He smiled, which for some reason drew her eyebrows together in a worried look.

"But we can. We have to," he replied.

"We can't and we won't! I'll turn this bloody ship around myself if I have to!"

She tried to step back, but he held her still.

"I can fix this."

* * *

><p>Rose stared into his eyes. Eyes familiar and yet unfamiliar at the same time. Her Doctors were in there. The one clad in leather who first showed her the stars and the one with the hair and warm brown eyes who gave her the only forever he could. They were under a current of pain and desperation. It was the desperation that stilled her heart.<p>

"What are you going to fix, Doctor?" she asked.

"Everything, Rose. I can fix everything," he replied with a grin. "All that stuff with Moriarty. Everything you went through. I can fix it."

"Fix it…how?" she asked, hesitantly.

"I can go back. I can save you." He released her and began flipping levers again. "I can get through that window while I'm," he glanced at her, "the other me, is dealing with Donna. Then-"

"No," she whispered, realizing what he meant to do. "You can't."

"I know it's dangerous to cross my own time stream, but I know what I'm doing Rose. It'll be fine."

"You can't!" she yelled, lunging for the console. He grabbed her before she reached it. "Everything will change! Don't you understand what you'll do?"

"Of course I understand. You'll be safe. You won't have met Moriarty or-"

"Sherlock," she exclaimed. "My family, Doctor. My husband! My daughter!"

"It'll be fine Rose. You'll be fine."

"No, I won't! I'll be alone!"

She felt like someone kicked her and for a moment she couldn't breathe. Sherlock would never meet her. They wouldn't fall in love. They wouldn't get married. They wouldn't have children. Her daughter…oh, god…she'd never be born.

"You won't be alone. You'll have me."

"I want to be with them!"

He placed his hands on her temples.

"You'll be fine, Rose. You won't even remember them."

She struggled, hitting his chest as hard as she could, but he held her firm. Why would he take her family away? She couldn't let him! She had to stop him!

"Please," she begged as he forced her to look into his eyes.

"Listen," he said.

"Don't do this."

"I need you to sleep now and when you wake up everything will be all right."

Her eyelids grew heavy. She tried to keep them open, but she knew she already lost.

"Please…don't…"

* * *

><p>Rose collapsed into his arms. She was afraid, but she didn't understand. She was the most human, human he ever met and they were prone to overreaction. It was his fault she'd been stuck in that alternate universe. The cracks were his fault. She only jumped through to save her family. Jumping through was what led to her being captured by the Master, calling himself Moriarty.<p>

This was all his doing and so it was up to him to fix things. If Rose wasn't there then the Master wouldn't have been drawn there. Sherlock Holmes wasn't met to marry Rose Tyler, a girl from an alternate universe. As the last time lord it was his job to keep things as they should be.

Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice whispered that he wasn't met to be with Rose either, but he ignored that.

Amy and Rory would revert to wherever they ought to be so there was nothing to worry about. He laid her down in the jump seat then grabbed the keyboard. After typing in the coordinates he flipped the last lever.

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><p><strong>Thank you to all my brilliant readers!<strong>

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**


	38. The End Pt2

Last chapter! There may be feels...just so you know. :)

I'll start the alternate tomorrow.

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><p>Rose stood on the beach watching the TARDIS vanish. She heard someone draw up next to her. The New Doctor. She knew who it was before he took her hand. Rose glanced at him. He looked exactly like the Doctor, but he wasn't the same man.<p>

The beach grew quiet. The TARDIS was gone along with the Doctor and this…this was her life. No more traveling in space and time. She crossed universes to find him and now…her thoughts were interrupted by the TARDIS.

Her eyes snapped to the spot the TARDIS vanished from and as she watched it began to reappear. Only…it was different. More blue. She shoved the thought aside as she dropped the new Doctor's hand and hurried toward the doors.

She stopped just as quickly when one of the doors swung open to reveal…a man she didn't recognize. He had a floppy mop of brown hair and wore a tweed jacket and bowtie. She stared at him, confused, but he returned her confusion with a smile that said he knew her.

"Rose Tyler," he said, rolling her name out as only one person had done. He stepped out, glancing around. "Bad Wolf Bay. Got it right." He glanced at her with a grin. "Got the time right too."

"Doctor?" she hesitantly asked.

He straightened his suit.

"Expecting someone else?"

"But…" she stepped toward him and reached out her hand to touch his cheek. "You changed."

"But I'm still me." She gazed into his eyes. So different from the Doctors she knew and yet there was that loneliness. That sadness. "So, where do you want to go?"

"Sorry?" she asked, confused.

He…well, the other him…just left and now here he was…a new him…well, new, new, new him and he what? Wanted her to come with him?

"I know I just left. Well, the other me did and you're probably upset and confused and full of all those human emotions, but we don't have a lot of time. The crack is sealing and you need to make a decision."

"A decision?"

"You once told me you'd stay with me forever."

"Ya."

"So, what I'm saying is…Rose Tyler, come with me."

She wasn't sure why she was hesitating. Here was the Doctor. The proper Doctor and he wanted her to come with him. She glanced back at the new Doctor.

"Oh, don't mind him," the Doctor said, following her gaze. "He'll be all right. Won't you handy?"

The meta-crisis glared, but then his eyes softened as they fell on Rose.

"It's your choice, Rose," he said.

"But what will you do?" she asked as guilt welled up inside of her.

"Like he said, I'll be all right."

A deep bell tolled from the TARDIS.

"Rose, we have to go," the Doctor said, taking her hand.

"I…" she trailed off, her eyes still on the new Doctor.

"Go, Rose," the new Doctor said, nodding toward the TARDIS. "It's what you want and that's all right because it's what you deserve. Go, Rose. Be happy."

"You heard him, Rose," the Doctor said. "So? What do you say?"

She turned back to the Doctor. She would be leaving everyone. Her family. The new Doctor. When she crossed universes to find him she didn't plan on coming back, but then he brought her back. Left her.

But here he was. Different and yet the same. The same mad alien who showed her the stars. The same one who fought the Sycorax on Christmas Eve. He was asking her to come with him the same as he'd done that night and she knew in that moment that there was only one answer.

"All right."

"All right?" he asked.

"Ya," she grinned, "Let's go."

She followed him into the TARDIS and for a moment, a brief moment, a cold chill crept up her spine. She shivered.

"Are you okay?" the Doctor asked.

"Ya, just, got a cold chill for a moment, but it passed."

The Doctor stared at her and she thought he was going to say something, but instead he raced up to the console.

"So, Rose Tyler, all of time and space. Where do you want to go?"

* * *

><p>The Doctor knew he overstepped the bounds by changing Rose's future, but he deserved this and he could keep her safe. He knew there would be repercussions and River wouldn't be happy, but he could talk her round. She knew their time was short and if luck allowed he might not run into her for another twenty years. By then he'd have a plan and Rose wouldn't be as fragile. After all he might as well put that formula to good use. Madam Kovarian wasn't the only one who could create a Time Lord or in Rose's case a Time Lady. She did promise him forever and he intended to hold her to that.<p>

* * *

><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

**Thank you to all my brilliant readers!**

**If you have time reviews are always welcome. :)**


	39. Alternate Ending Pt1

Alternate ending for everyone who is either curious or wishes the ending wasn't so...evil? Yes, I think that's the right word, lol.

There are 3-4 chapters for the new ending.

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><p>"We have to go back!" Rose yelled over the TARDIS engines as she grabbed his arm intent on forcing him to turn around, but she was stopped by a flash of light. She spun around and came face to face with…the Doctor, but not the one refusing to go back. <em>Her Doctor<em>. The one in leather who first showed her the stars.

"Oh, not you again," the Doctor snapped. "I thought I got rid of you."

"Can't get rid of me," her Doctor replied with a grin, making the other Doctor roll his eyes. "I'll be here till the end of you and the end of her."

"You," Rose whispered, but it couldn't be.

Her Doctor's eyes found hers. He smiled.

"Rose Tyler," he greeted, as if the words held some unknown power. "I've wanted to say that for over a hundred years."

"But you…you died."

"Mostly," he shrugged.

"Mostly?" she asked, confused.

"You didn't just save Jack that day."

"What?"

The Doctor sighed, walking across the console.

"When I…he took the time vortex out of you it latched onto a part of me…well, him, and it's all very timey wimey-"

"Timey wimey?" her Doctor asked in a condescending tone.

"It's a technical term."

Her Doctor rolled his eyes before glancing at Rose. She was still stunned, but she couldn't help smiling back when he took her shoulders, excitedly as he grinned at her.

"The thing is, Rose Tyler, you saw it coming-"

"We don't know that, you're just guessing," the Doctor replied.

Her Doctor shot him a glare.

"It's a good guess and if anyone could do she could so shut up. I'm talking." Her Doctor caught her gaze. "What I'm trying to say is you saved me. Only, my body had to regenerate."

"So…you're-"

"Part of the ship, basically," he explained as he released her and held his arms out, glancing up at the ceiling.

Her smile slipped as she realized what she did. She saved him only to trap him in the TARDIS forever. What kind of life was that?

"I…I'm sorry."

He spun around and grabbed her shoulders as he gazed into her eyes.

"Don't be sorry. I'm not. I got to see you again and to me that's worth it," he said, pulling her into a hug.

She held him, breathing in the smell of his leather jacket.

"But, I mean, are you okay?" she asked, pulling back enough to look into his eyes.

"I'm always okay." She eyed him. "I'm okay, Rose. Really." He glanced at the Doctor. "Besides, someone's got to keep this idiot in line."

"I can take care of myself," the Doctor miffed.

"Really? Then what exactly do you think you're doing?" her Doctor snapped, striding up to the other Time Lord.

"I'm saving her," the Doctor insisted, glaring back.

"Kidnapping her's more like it," he replied, folding his arms.

"I'm not kidnapping her! She doesn't belong here."

"Don't I get a say in where I belong?" Rose snapped.

Her Doctor turned around with a grin.

"As you should," he agreed.

"You don't belong here," the Doctor insisted.

Her Doctor rounded on the other Time Lord.

"Why? Because it's not where you left her?"

"I didn't leave her. I gave her a better life."

"And how'd that working out?" her Doctor asked.

"I know what's best for her."

Her Doctor rolled his eyes.

"You and the one with the hair. Idiots the pair of you."

"Doctor," she tried, wanting to reason with him if she could. "We have to go back. We have to save them."

"No, we don't. I can fix this."

"Fix that?" her Doctor demanded, stepping over to the console. "What the hell are you planning?" He glanced at the monitor before his eyes snapped to the other. "You can't!" he insisted, stepping up to the Doctor, not even trying to hide the anger in his eyes.

The Doctor drew himself up to his full height and held the other Time Lord's gaze.

"I'm a Time Lord. The laws of time are mine to control."

"You said that once before and you remember how that worked out," her Doctor snapped, looking as if he wanted to throttle his counterpart.

"I was young," the Doctor dismissed, "I know so much more now. It'll be different this time."

"I won't let you," her Doctor said, reaching for the lever, but at that moment the Doctor pulled his sonic and pointed it at the other Time Lord then pushed the button. As the sonic warbled her Doctor became ethereal, like the recording she remembered from so many years ago.

When he tried to grasp the lever his hand passed through it.

"What did you do?" Rose demanded.

"Reverted him to his natural state," the Doctor dismissed, pocketing his sonic.

"Cut me off from the TARDIS's what you mean," her Doctor snapped.

"You weren't meant to be part of my TARDIS."

"She's my TARDIS too."

"The point is," the Doctor continued.

"The point is," her Doctor cut in, "You just want me out of the way, but I won't let you do this!"

"You can't stop me," the Doctor replied, typing on the keypad.

"You'll kill her!"

"What?" Rose asked as the TARDIS began to shake.

"Rose won't die," he insisted.

"_She_ will," her Doctor yelled, pointing at her.

The Doctor was different. She'd seen that early on, but he wouldn't actually kill her. She couldn't believe that.

"Doctor, don't," she said, stepping toward him. "Whatever you're thinking, please, don't do it."

The Doctor glanced at her then, caught the fear she wore. She didn't understand. He closed the distance between them and reached for her.

"It'll be fine, Rose. I promise. You'll be fine. Better than fine because everything you went through, all that stuff with Moriarty, it won't have happened. Don't you see? You'll be safe."

Realization hit her and she stepped back out of his reach.

"But, that's how Sherlock found me."

"You won't need Sherlock," he dismissed as he turned around and hurried back to the console. "You'll have me."

"What?"

She pulled herself along the railing toward the console.

"Doctor," she continued. "I don't understand."

Her Doctor was beside her then.

"He's going to make it so you never wind up here."

"What?" she asked, catching his gaze. "How?"

"He's going to go back for you the day he left you on that beach."

That was impossible. He couldn't go back.

"No, but the walls were sealed."

"You think walls being sealed can keep out a Time Lord and his TARDIS?"

"You mean…he could've come back?"

"Yes, but he didn't know that. This one, this version figured that out, didn't you?" The Doctor ignored him. "And now he's going to use that to change things."

He was going to change her past. Make it so she was with him. All those years ago she would've given anything for that, but now…

"You can't!" she yelled, charging toward him. She had to stop him. "Sherlock! My daughter! I'll lose them."

She reached him then and grabbed his arm, but he spun around and held her in place, even as she struggled, her eyes filling with tears. He was going to take them away from her.

"It'll be fine, Rose. You won't even remember them."

"Please, oh, god, please don't do this!"

He pulled her into his chest and held her there. She was upset, but she wouldn't be. She'd forget and then everything would be as it should.

"You know why she jumped," her Doctor said, reminding her of the cracks and the reason she left the other universe in the first place.

"My parents! Tony! Doctor they'll die," she yelled pulling away from him. "The other universe will rip apart!"

"I can save them, Rose," the Doctor insisted, crossing back to the console. "You have to trust me."

"But it'll just be them," her Doctor pointed out. "Everyone and everything in that universe will die."

"Everyone dies. Everything ends."

Those words sent a cold chill through her heart. This wasn't the Doctor, not the man she remembered.

"What happened to you?" she asked, but he merely glanced at her.

"But not you," her Doctor snapped. "You just keep going, keep living, and take whatever you want. Is that what you've become?"

"I deserve this," he insisted, turning back to the console.

"But what about her? Does she deserve this?"

"I can keep her safe."

Rose glanced from one to the other as the tears flowed down her cheeks, knowing there was nothing she could do. Once again the Doctor was deciding what was best for her and once again he wasn't giving her a choice. She flopped into the jump seat, covering her face with her hands, wishing that somehow she could stop this.

Her Doctor had never felt so angry in all his nine hundred plus years. Rose Tyler, his Rose, the shop girl who was so much more than a shop girl, so much more than a bumbling ape and there she was giving up. Defeated and all because of this new regeneration. Not just him. The other one too. The pair of them making decisions for her. Something he never did.

He strode toward this newest regeneration, anger burning behind his eyes.

"You're going to stop this and you're going to stop this now!" he demanded.

"Or what?" the Doctor asked, glancing at him as if he was no more of a threat than a fly. "You'll nag me to death?"

"STOP! THIS! NOW!" He shouted.

A lever flipped back into place.

"What did you do?" the Doctor demanded, racing toward the lever and flipping it only to have two more levers flip back on the other side.

Her Doctor grinned.

"I think I've managed to tap back into the TARDIS. She's not very happy with you, by the way."

"Stop that!" the Doctor yelled, pulling out his sonic and using it once more.

"I'll have no more of that," her Doctor said and a moment later the sonic sparked.

The Doctor dropped it and when he bent down to pick it up he realized it shorted out.

"That's not possible."

"I'm part of the TARDIS. The sonic's part of the TARDIS," her Doctor grinned.

"Can you stop it?" Rose asked, wiping her eyes as she stood up.

He gave her a wide smile.

"For you, Rose Tyler, I can do anything."

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><p>Standard Disclaimer.<p>

**Thank you to all my brilliant readers!**

**Reviews are always welcome. :)**


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